


Untouchable

by standintherain16



Series: Haunted [3]
Category: One Direction
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Eating Disorders, M/M, Self-Harm, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 143,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/standintherain16/pseuds/standintherain16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is physically scarred. Louis is mentally scarred. They live together, but they've never been so far apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of the third and final book of the Haunted series! I'm so pumped! WOOOO!  
> Love you!!

Sometimes I'll look at myself in a mirror and wonder who I'm looking at.  
It surely can't be me, can it?  
I'm hardly an adult, yet one glance at my face and anybody could see the tired lines and hard edge of somebody much older.  
I've got the far-away look of a veteran who has seen too much.  
I've got the black heart of a murderer, encased in steel to keep me from feeling any pain.  
I'll have to touch my face, make sure that it's me that I'm seeing.  
Then I'll hear him close by and maybe then my heart will ache because he's so far away.  
It's like he's right next to me but universes away at the same time.  
I know that he's got those lines, that hard edge, the trauma, the black heat just like I do because I've done that to him.  
I made him feel that way.  
Sometimes, when it's quiet at night, I can't help but hear him crying in his room.  
There's this huge gap between us and it hurts so bad but neither of us know what to do to fix it.  
I want to creep into his room and crawl into bed with him. I want to hold him until he stops crying and everything is alright again because he's too perfect to ever have to cry.  
But I can't. It's not allowed because it will only hurt more.  
If we walk next to each other and our fingers so much as brush, there's a cold silence for days, even though I feel so inexplicably warm when we touch.  
I can't make sense of how I feel of how he feels or how we can't just fix things.  
He's untouchable, a million miles away when he's right beside me.  
Sometimes I'll find him looking in a mirror and I'll wonder if he recognizes himself.  
Because I don't.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis's POV

Felix took Harry to Cheshire to stay with his mum.  
It was a long week of me stressing over the simple "get off of me" from Harry. I wasn't sure if it was the shock of seeing me for the first time or if he really had started to hate me.  
I didn't sleep the night before Felix was to drive Harry back to London.  
When they arrived, I offered to help Harry carry his stuff, but he simply grunted and stumbled under all of the weight, mumbling a goodbye to Felix.  
Felix quietly wished me luck as I walked away to open the door for Harry.  
"So. Where's my room?" he asked quietly, a hard edge to his voice as he hovered in the doorway.  
"You've been here before. 's the guest," I replied.  
He nodded, but he only took a few steps forwards.  
"Why couldn't we have stayed in my flat?" he asked.  
He wouldn't meet my eyes and it was frustrating.  
"I'm. Um, I'm just not comfortable there," I mumbled.  
I was fairly certain that Harry didn't know about what had gone down there while he had been away. I didn't know if I was ready to tell him.  
"Of course. It's always about you," he snorted.  
My mouth dropped open and I floundered for words, but he stumbled away to go to his room.  
I stood there for a few moments, confused and hurt.  
I made my way up the stairs and down the hall where the bedrooms were. I stood quietly outside of his, wondering what to say.  
"I, um. I think I have a few of your shirts and stuff, if you want them back," I said carefully.  
Harry didn't look up from his unpacking, nor did he do anything else to acknowledge me.  
"Look, if you're like, um, mad about having to stay here, I guess I could have phrased what I said better or something. Like, I stayed at your place for a while, actually for a few months, but um. I just can't go back, okay? I just...there's a lot more to it than that, but I'm just...I can't really explain right now," I blurted.  
Harry sighed heavily and dropped the shirt that he had been holding before standing up and making his way over to me.  
He still wouldn't look at me and it hurt.  
"I think that we will both benefit if you just leave me alone," he said simply before shutting the door in my face.  
I blinked rapidly at the wooden door, trying not to cry. I wondered if Harry would feel bad if he heard me cry. I decided that with the way that he was acting, he probably wouldn't.  
I shuffled to my own room and sat on the bed, kicking my heels against the frame.  
I was lost in thought for what didn't feel like long, but I was startled out of my mind by a knock.  
I got up and opened the door.  
Harry was looking over my shoulder as usual.  
"Can I make my own food or do you have to supervise me?" he said, with a slight sarcastic note.  
"Um. No, but would you mind if I ate too?" I asked.  
Harry shrugged and walked away. I followed him down to my kitchen. I watched him open the refridgerator and assorted cabinets.  
"Do you ever fucking eat?" he asked.  
My eyes were naturally drawn to his waist, remembering the disgusting memory of how prominent his bones had once been. Harry was still really thin, but I couldn't see the outline of his ribs through his shirt anymore.  
"Yeah. I usually just get takeaway or something, though," I admitted.  
A ghost of a smile flickered across his face and he nodded.  
"I should have guessed," he said quietly, "D'you want me to order for you?"  
"Yeah. You know what I like," I replied.  
The whole thing felt so achingly familiar, but the tenseness and subtle hostility was new.  
"Harry," I began.  
He held a finger up as he dialed a number on his phone.  
His wrist faced me and I sucked in a breath. It was his left wrist and it was so marred with scars that I had to blink a couple times to make sure that I was seeing correctly.  
I could clearly see the long, vertical scars. They were long since healed, but I couldn't help but see them as fresh wounds, steadily dripping blood as Harry lay motionless on his floor.  
I felt sick and dizzy.  
"It should be here in like fifteen minutes," he muttered.  
I nodded faintly.  
"And yes, those would be my scars. You would have seen them before if you had ever payed attention to your 'best friend'," he spat suddenly.  
I drew back as he stormed past me.  
"I'm sorry," I whispered helplessly to the empty kitchen.  
I could feel tears well up in my eyes again, but I pushed them back down.  
My body ached for a drink and I swallowed several times to try to get rid of the lump in my throat.  
I traced my tattoo with my fingers.  
Suddenly, it seemed so pointless. Why had I even gotten it? Yeah, I'd liked the idea, but I'd liked the idea of Harry liking it more. Part of me wanted him to see it and think it was great that I had gotten it for him.  
But now, seeing this 'new' Harry, I wondered if he even cared about anything anymore. Part of me wanted to show him the tattoo, see what he said, part of me knew that he wouldn't say a word.  
The boys had always told me that Harry asked about me all the time and that he always cared so much about their answers.  
Now I wondered if they hadn't been lying just to make me feel better. Obviously Harry really didn't care how I was anymore or he wouldn't act like he was acting.  
And I had seen his scars before! I'd payed attention to him. It had taken me a while to see how badly he was doing through the denial in my mind, but I'd done nothing but pay attention to him after that.  
I remembered when I'd called him an attention whore and he had heard me. I hadn't thought that I could possibly feel more guilty than that, but in the past six months, what I felt every day surpassed that.  
It was just that I had never seen the ones that he had tried to kill himself with before. It wasn't just the vertical ones, he'd cut several times horizontally as well that day and they were much thicker and darker than the rest of his horizontal scars.  
I felt nauseous and dizzy and I had to sit down in a chair at our table before I passed out. I took several slow, shaky breaths.  
I still wanted a drink. I wanted to feel the burn of alcohol going down my throat. I wanted to feel the delicious numb that came with being drunk.  
But I knew that there was no alcohol anywhere in the house and I wasn't going to dare leave Harry alone.  
I didn't feel quite so dizzy, so I stood up to get myself a glass of water. I put ice in it and when I drank it, the cold almost soothed the ache in my throat.  
But not quite.  
I didn't hear Harry come into the kitchen, so I jumped when he cleared his throat. He set two bags down on the table and gestured to them.  
"Did you not hear the doorbell ring?" he asked.  
I shook my head.  
"Did it?" I asked.  
He nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows.  
"I'm eating in my room," he said quietly.  
He sifted through the bags and found what was his.  
"Harry, um, I dunno if you heard me earlier, but I'm sorry," I said weakly.  
Harry's eyes finally met mine and I involuntarily flinched. They were cold and dark and so unlike Harry that I wondered momentarily if this boy even was Harry.  
He stared at me for a long few seconds and I cowered under the weight of his gaze.  
"It doesn't matter if you're sorry or not. It doesn't and it won't change a thing. So save your breath and just leave me alone," he finally growled.  
He took his food and stormed away.  
The ache in my throat returned with a vengeance. I whimpered quietly, the dull pain almost unbearable. I took a drink of my water but it didn't sloth it any.  
It almost hurt to breath.  
The desperate need for alcohol was absolutely disgusting, I knew that, but I couldn't control it. My entire body craved alcohol and I felt like I would go insane if it didn't get it.  
I licked my lips several times, something that Dr. Benson told me that I did when I talked about my drinking problem.  
I made my way back over to the table and sat down. I pulled my food out of the bag, but my appetite had vanished. I put it into the refridgerator for some point in the future and I threw the bags away.  
I all but had to drag myself up to my room. I collapsed on my bed and hugged my knees to my chest.  
I knew that Liam wanted me to call him and tell him how things were going, but I felt like I would start crying as soon as he answered.  
I texted him instead.  
'Don't think that this was a good idea, mate. H seems really pissed at me and idk why'  
Liam replied almost immediately. I felt like he had been staring at his phone the entire day, waiting intently for me to call.  
'He just needs to adjust. Give him some time :-('  
I rolled my eyes. I'd unwillingly given him six months of time.  
But I sighed and set my phone down and I threw my arms across my face.  
I didn't know what I had expected. Obviously I had known that it wouldn't all be puppies and rainbows with Harry and I, but I hadn't expected him to be so, well, mean.  
Harry wasn't a mean person. He was sweet and caring and if he thought that he had offended somebody in any way, he would be beside himself apologizing. Even when he was in a bad mood, he would sulk quietly in a corner instead of taking it out on everybody else. He had made a few nasty remarks in the months leading up to his attempted suicide, but they were few and far between.  
I didn't know if I could handle this person, this thing, that looked like Harry. He hardly even looked like himself, actually.  
His hair was longer and he wore it like he had when I had first met him, unstyled so that his old curls had returned completely. He was slightly more tan than I remembered, but it wasn't a big factor. He had somehow grown even taller. I had noticed when he had walked past me in the kitchen that he absolutely towered over me. He had been much taller before, but he had grown even more. He was still rather thin, but I could tell that he had gotten incredibly muscular. I had seen the outline of his rather impressive biceps.  
The biggest difference was his eyes. They had always been this warm, bright green. Sometimes they were a bit hazel, but most often they were light green. When he was happy, they glittered and they went especially gentle and warm.  
But now, they were so dark and cold. When he had finally held eye contact with me, the previously light green was all but black. It was like a forest in the middle of the night. They had been so hard and unforgiving.  
I sighed and rolled over onto my side.  
I really hoped that Harry would adjust to living with me quickly. I didn't know what he wanted, but I really wanted us to be friends again, or at least something close to it.  
I didn't sleep at all for the second night in a row. I didn't take any medication because I wanted to be easy to wake up if Harry needed me.  
I finally got out of bed when the sun started to rise. I reheated some of the takeaway for breakfast.  
I spent a few hours aimlessly doing things to keep myself occupied. I watched a few episodes of some show that I didn't really pay attention to, I tweeted a few times and I browsed the Internet for a while.  
When I heard movement upstairs, I felt my stomach turn. I didn't know why I was so nervous to see Harry. I supposed that it was because I didn't want to know what he was going to say.  
I heard him take a shower and he came downstairs about a half hour later.  
He stopped in the doorway.  
"Why're you up?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.  
I turned around to look at him. He was back to not making eye contact with me.  
"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked.  
"You normally sleep in late," he said simply.  
He sounded as if he was almost accusing me of something, but I had no idea of what.  
I snorted quietly.  
"Mate, I don't think I've slept in for six months," I said.  
"Don't call me that," he snapped suddenly.  
"Call you what? Mate?" I asked, my eyebrows crinkling together in confusion.  
"Yeah. I'm not your mate anymore, Louis," he said, "So don't act like I am."  
I recoiled, stung.  
"I was hoping that maybe we could be," I said in a small voice.  
Harry stared fixedly at the ground.  
"That's impossible," he muttered, so quietly and under his breath that I wondered if I was even supposed to have heard.  
He started to turn around.  
"Wait, Harry," I called.  
He stopped.  
"Um, the lads are going to come over later, if that's okay with you," I said.  
He sighed heavily.  
"I already made plans with Felix," he snapped.  
"You can't cancel? You just saw him yesterday," I said, making a half-hearted attempt to hide the jealousy in my voice.  
"So what if I fucking saw him yesterday?" Harry snarled, turning back to face me.  
"I was...I mean, I just thought that it might be nice for us all to be together again. We haven't been for six months," I said.  
I didn't even try to hide the jealousy that time.  
Harry grunted. He looked incredibly irritated.  
"Whatever," he snapped.  
He turned around again.  
"So, will you be here?" I asked.  
"If that's what you want," he replied.  
Again, he sounded so accusing and I had no idea why.  
"I do. Want that, I mean," I mumbled.  
He nodded and walked away.  
I didn't see him for the rest of the day. He kept to himself, in his room. I walked by at one point and heard him talking, so I assumed that he was on the phone.  
Needless to say, when Liam, Niall, and Zayn came over, it was incredibly awkward. We sort of sat in a circle and stared at each other.  
Harry picked at his nails and Liam shifted uncomfortably. Zayn's eyes were only half open and I wondered if he was asleep.  
"Alright, well this fucking sucks," Niall finally said, breaking the silence, "Sure it's been a while since we've all been together, but come on, lads. It's like we've never met before or something!"  
I tried to vanish into the sofa cushion. I knew that the awkwardness was because of me. I wondered if leaving would help.  
"Well, I'm going to get a drink. You lads want one?" Harry sighed, getting up.  
Zayn, Liam, and Niall all looked at me, waiting for me to say something.  
"If by drink, you mean water, than sure, go ahead. But there's no alcohol," I mumbled, "And there won't be. Not as long as I live here."  
Harry's eyes flicked to me but they only briefly held contact with mine.  
He hesitated slightly. I knew that he wanted to ask why, and I expected him too, but then he nodded, his mouth set in a firm line, and he left the room.  
"Does he know?" I asked quietly, once he was out of hearing range.  
"He knows that you were drinking a lot, but not quite the extent of it," Liam replied.  
"Are you ever going to tell him everything?" Niall asked.  
"Dunno. I don't think he wants to hear it," I sighed.  
"He just needs to adjust. It's uncomfortable for him, you know, seeing you again. Hold on, Louis, let me speak. It's like, he's still crazy in love with you. Maybe not as much as he was, but he's not completely over you. And the only way that he knows how to do is to avoid you," Zayn said.  
I gritted my teeth angrily and I was about to reply, but Harry chose that moment to come back in.  
"Nobody said that they wanted anything, so," he said, shrugging.  
He settled back down next to Liam.  
"S'fine. So, Harry, you've got to call management in the near future, discussing what to do, you know, media-wise. Ideally, they said, like sometime next week have something. It can be like a quick little article just talking about how you're back now and such, but yeah," Liam said.  
Harry gave a small smile.  
"I don't really care. Yeah. I guess probably an article first, but I'd like to do a more in-depth like TV interview soon too. Just get myself out there again, you know?" he said, "I've missed it."  
"All the fans are so excited that you're back. I wouldn't suggest going out on your own for a while yet, though," Niall said.  
"Of course not. I'll lay low for a bit," Harry agreed, "Probably just hang around with Felix most of the time."  
A dark feeling reserved especially for Felix coiled in my stomach and I fought the urge to bare my teeth.  
"You've got us too," Liam said.  
There was a definite tension around Felix's name. I didn't know if Harry noticed it through the tension between he and I, but the others did.  
"Yeah. But he gets it, you know? The whole readjusting to real life thing. It's...it's weird how much freedom I have now and he understands. Not that you lads can't try, but it's not quite the same," Harry said dismissively.  
I tasted blood and I realized that I was biting down hard on my lip.  
"Thanks, mate," Niall drawled sarcastically.  
"I wasn't insulting you," Harry snorted, "S'just the truth."  
They stayed for a while. I talked only about once or twice, and each time I felt like Harry was sending waves of irritation towards me.  
When Liam, Niall, and Zayn finally left, the awkwardness increased tenfold.  
"Harry, um. If you want like, beer or something. Um. You were right when you said that I would drink too much. So I can't. Um. Drink at all now. So. Yeah. It's just easier to resist temptation if there isn't any here. So. Um. Sorry," I stammered.  
His eyes met mine and they flashed dangerously. I shifted back a step.  
"You know, I figured that I'd be a bit of a burden to you, with all the checking up you've got to do. But I really don't know who's more of the burden here," he said coldly, his mouth twisting into a tight line.  
"M'sorry. Can't help it," I mumbled.  
Harry rolled his eyes and walked away.  
My stomach hurt, I realized. Harry and I had had small arguments before, sometimes they'd been bigger right before he'd attempted suicide. They'd never been like this, though. He'd never deliberately tried to hurt me. I didn't even know what he was angry about.  
I didn't even know him.

Harry's POV

It wasn't like I wanted to hurt Louis. It hurt me almost, if not more, than it hurt him. Every time that I saw him shrink away of flinch, I felt like I was getting stabbed in the stomach. The few times that I risked looking into his eyes had been incredibly painful. The hurt and deep, deep sadness that I saw was nearly unbearable.  
But I had to do it. I had to push him away.  
It was just that all of the emotions that I'd been trying to get rid of had hit me with the force of a decently sized tsunami. They'd knocked me off of my feet and I was still drowning and trying to claw my way to the surface to breath.  
When he'd all but thrown himself at me back at the center, I'd lost control for a few seconds. He was just so overwhelmingly Louis that I'd forgotten that I couldn't let myself get close to him.  
Everything was the same. His hair had tickled my face like it always had. His fucking smell all but intoxicated me. And fuck, he was so light and small in my arms that it made me want to cry.  
The way he'd said my name was agonizing. It was so desperate-sounding and I couldn't help but wonder what he was desperate for.  
I'd pushed him away though. And it hurt so much to let go. It was like I was physically ripping our skin apart.  
Having the week away from him after that had been nice. I'd been able to breath again, to wash the faint smell of him that only I could detect from my skin. I couldn't wash him away through.  
Cause Christ, I still loved him, I knew that. It was like this fire that was burning me alive. I could feel it destroying my skin, eating away at me until it killed me.  
For the first time in ages, my wrists started to burn with the need for release. I stared at them for a long time. I knew that I wouldn't, that I couldn't do anything.  
I wouldn't be able to bear the look on Louis's face when he saw any damage done.  
I couldn't even look at him for long. He was the fucking sun in my eyes. If I looked for more than a moment, his beauty would burn into my sight and I would be blind with it.  
He looked different, from what I had gathered in my brief glances. He was a bit thinner, enough so that his small bit of a tummy was gone. His jaw line was sharper. His hair was longer and it stuck up in all directions, like he didn't care at all what it looked like. He had subtle stubble. What hurt the most was how tired he looked. It wasn't the kind of tired like he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep. It was the kind of tired that a veteran would have. Like somebody who had been drug to hell and back. I knew that the exhaustion in his posture and his face was because of me.  
I didn't sleep well the first night and I rolled around restlessly the second. It was about the middle of the night when I decided that I had to go for a wee.  
I stumbled out into the hallway. Louis had his own bathroom, but my room didn't. It was sort of unspoken that the one in the hallway would be mine.  
As I walked down the hallway, I noticed that a light was on downstairs.  
I glanced towards Louis's door. It was shut. I figured that he had just forgotten to turn it off. I crept downstairs as quietly as I could, not wanting to accidentally wake him by making too much noise.  
It was the kitchen light that it was on. I stepped through the doorway and froze.  
Louis was sitting at the table in from of me, facing away from me. His head was in his hands and his shoulders shook as he tried to keep quiet.  
He was crying, was the thing. It wasn't just a few tears, I could tell. His entire body trembled with the force of his sobs. He was trying to stifle them, I could tell, but it wasn't working very well. His breathing was jerky and quick and occasionally a whimper slipped through his fingers.  
I caused it. I caused him to sit up at night, crying in the kitchen.  
I felt so sick, knowing that I was hurting him.  
I went to step backwards, but of course the floor decided to creak.  
Louis stiffened and whipped around to face me. I froze.  
He was a mess. His hair was everywhere and his face was red and tear-stained. He was still the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen.  
"I...saw the light...so...," I stammered, "I'll just..."  
I nodded stiffly and all but sprinted back upstairs. I felt my own tears start to form in my eyes because fuck, I'd made him cry.  
I was huddled in bed, hugging my knees to my chest, when I realized that I never had actually weed.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry's POV 

When I came down the next morning, I discovered Louis still at the table. But he was asleep. If I wasn't aware that he had fallen asleep crying, it would have been pretty fucking endearing.   
I debated about waking him up. He'd be irresistibly soft and gentle, because he always was when he first woke up. He would pout because his back and neck would probably hurt from sleeping so uncomfortably. I shook my head slowly at myself, giving Louis's sleeping body a tiny, sad smile. No. I knew that he wouldn't be like that, how I remembered him always being. He would probably blink up at me for a few seconds before getting up and leaving me to stand in the kitchen alone. I deserved it, for making him cry like that.   
I quietly exited the kitchen before going back upstairs. I wondered if it was a bad idea to risk leaving to go see Felix. I decided to get him to come to Louis's instead. Well, it wasn't exactly just Louis's house anymore.   
When Felix arrived, I let him in quietly. Louis was still asleep at the kitchen table, as far as I knew. I wanted him to get some rest. He looked beyond exhausted. He would probably sleep better in a bed, but I couldn't bring myself to wake him up.   
I hugged Felix tightly, burying my face in his neck.   
He hugged me back, arms tight around my waist. I'd spent a good hour talking to him before I'd gone to sleep and he knew how difficult my situation was.   
"How're you, H?" he murmured, voice mostly lost in my hair.   
I shrugged.   
"Let's go to my room. I don't want to wake Louis up," I muttered.  
Felix gave me a strange look. I hadn't explained where Louis had fallen asleep. I ignored it and led him up the stairs and down the hall to my room.   
"Nice place," Felix commented, looking around my incredibly messy room.   
"I haven't gotten a chance to unpack and put everything away," I protested.   
"You've had two days," he argued, smiling, "And all you do is hide up here."   
I nodded before flopping back onto my bed. Felix followed suit. I curled into his side. I felt safe with him, secure. If it weren't for Louis, I'd probably head over heels in love with Felix.   
But it was like Louis had my heart hidden away deep in the blue of his eyes and he was refusing to give it back, typical to his stubborn nature.   
"I really don't think that I can do this," I whispered against Felix's throat, "I thought it was bad when he didn't know. I wanted him to know, because I thought that it was better than having to hide it. But this..."  
Felix sighed quietly and tightened his grip on me.   
"I woke up in the middle of the night cause I had to wee and I went downstairs cause I saw a light was on. And fuck, Felix, he was awake and he was just sitting there in the kitchen and crying. And when he noticed that I was standing there...he looked at me and it broke my heart because he looked so upset. He's blaming himself, I know he is," I mumbled.   
"You know that you have to put yourself first in order to stay safe. I know that it's hurting you to hurt him, and I may be slightly selfish in saying this, but if it keeps you from regressing, then maybe doing something that hurts him is the only way," Felix said gently.  
"But hurting him hurts me," I protested.   
"I think that no matter what you do, it will still hurt," he replied.   
"I want it to stop hurting," I complained.   
He gave me a little half-smile and said, "I don't think you get a say I that."   
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.   
"For what?" he asked.  
I shrugged, which was a slightly difficult movement in the position that we were in.   
"If I hurt you," I replied.   
Felix sighed for so long that it was comical and I laughed.   
"Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy. I can handle it," he said.   
I snorted, "You're younger than me."  
"By like half a year. But I am bigger than you height-wise. And that's what matters," he said.  
I rolled my eyes at him.   
We talked for a little while longer, occasionally getting distracted by wrestling playfully.   
"You eaten today?" he asked, carding his fingers through my hair.   
"No," I replied.   
I could feel his immediate displeasure.   
"I woke up and called you and then I've been with you since. I haven't had time," I protested.  
Felix sat up, ignoring my attempts to pull him back down.  
"H, you know you need to eat when you get up," he said sternly.   
"I did yesturday! And the day before! And all of last week. I just forgot today, I'm sorry," I said, pouting at him.   
Felix rolled his eyes, but he smiled.   
"Come on, then," he grunted as he pulled me up.   
I didn't let go of his hand as we walked down to the kitchen.   
"You want anything?" I asked as we walked in.  
Felix stopped and suddenly looked the slightest bit uncomfortable, something that was unfamiliar to me.  
I followed his gaze.   
Louis was looking back at us, leaning against the counter. He held a mug in his hands.   
From the brief glance that I allowed myself, my throat constricted. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen and the dark circles under his eyes were even more noticible.   
"Hello, Louis," Felix said cheerfully, breaking the silence.   
He walked over to our fridge and opened it, scrunching his nose at the choices, or lack thereof.   
"Felix," Louis said simply, his voice gravelly and tired.   
He took a sip of his tea and sighed quietly. I snuck a quick look at him. He was still the most beautiful person that I had even laid my eyes on, but he looked so worn and tired. It made my heart ache.   
"What do you want, H? We could go out," Felix suggested.  
"No, you can't," Louis interrupted, "He's not supposed to be out in public yet."  
"Oh, you're right. Sorry, I forgot," Felix said easily, "I could go out and get us something, then."  
"It's fine. We can just like...eat the leftover take away," I mumbled.  
Felix frowned at me.  
"You said that it hurt your stomach," he said.  
I could feel Louis's eyes snap up to look at me.  
"You know how it is. Remember how bad it was in the beginning?" I snorted, "I just need to get used to it again."  
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Louis sag against the counter, his head dropping.   
"Have you got anything else?" Felix asked him.   
"I don't fucking know," Louis snarled, tensing up again, "Figure it out."  
Felix nodded seriously.   
"I just didn't want to start going through everything and seem invasive," he said.  
Louis snorted, "You've already fucking invaded my life. Just go ahead and invade everything else."   
I was taken aback with how downright mean he was acting.   
Felix managed to find a box of not quite yet expired cereal.   
"We can just eat in your bed," he said, winking at me and slipping out of the kitchen, expecting me to follow.  
I started to follow him.  
"Wait. Harry," Louis said quietly from behind me, his voice more gentle than it had been with Felix.   
I didn't turn around, but I stopped. I didn't want to talk about what had happened.  
"Management called again. You should call them back. Figure out everything. Yeah," he said.   
His voice was almost inaudible with how quiet it was. He sounded so miserable.   
I nodded.   
"And um. I don't sleep much anymore, so. Don't like worry or something if you see lights on," Louis added quickly.   
I heard the scraping of his ceramic mug on the counter and the padding of feet as he came and brushed past me.   
He jogged up the steps and I saw how hard he was biting his lip. I inhaled slightly. He left behind the slightest scent of something that could only be described as pure Louis.   
I ran my hands through my hair. I hated how upset he sounded, especially because I knew that it was my fault.   
I walked up the stairs and into my room to find Felix lounging on my bed.   
"What'd he say?" he asked, offering me the cereal.  
"Just told me to call our management back and that he doesn't sleep much, so I shouldn't worry if I see lights on," I said.  
I poured a handful of cereal into my mouth and wrinkled my nose. It wasn't disgusting, but it was rather stale.   
"He doesn't like me much. It's rather amusing," Felix chuckled.  
"Yeah, I noticed. What's that about, anyways?" I asked.  
He shrugged.   
"In all honesty, I think he's jealous," he said simply.  
I stared at him.   
"You know. He was your best friend and now he thinks that I'm his replacement and all that jazz. He's probably upset because you're doing everything with me that you've always done with him," he explained, "And I might have upset him when I visited him a while ago. But I'm fairly sure that he's always hated me. It's okay though. I'd hate me too if I were him."  
"Just like he's always hated Nick," I murmured, "He always said that it was because he thought that Nick wanted in my pants, but I've always had a hunch that he just didn't like having to share."  
We sat in silence for a while, occasionally snorting at how difficult it was to eat the cereal.   
Finally, Felix piped up, asking, "Did you see how he reacted when you said whatever you said about how it hurt when you started eating again?"   
"I wasn't looking at him," I replied honestly.   
"I feel bad for him, you know. I know that you're doing what might be best for you, but I do feel bad, just like you do. He just got this look on his face; it was rather depressing. Like defeat and guilt and that sort of shit," he said.   
I nodded.  
"I hate doing this. Why do I have to live with him?" I mumbled into the crook of his neck.  
"You have to work with him anyways. I know that you don't like this, but at least it's giving you two the opportunity to adjust a little bit to each other before you have to start working together again," he said.  
"I don't think I'll get used to it, though. I hardly was used to him before I fucking fell in love with him," I snorted.   
"He definitely is a rather complicated person to understand," Felix replied.   
We laid in silence again, occasionally shifting and prodding at each other to get to a more comfortable position.   
I was half-asleep before a thought occurred to me.   
"Felix?" I asked.  
He grunted, evidentially partially asleep as well.  
"What aren't you telling me about Louis?" I asked quietly, "There's something that all of you leave out when you talk about him."  
Felix opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a few moments. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought.  
"You're a rather perceptive person, Harry, and we, at least I, haven't really been trying to hide that there's more to the story. But it's one of those things that Louis needs to talk to you about himself and he's eventually going to have to. The lads came and talked to me and asked if they should tell you or not and I said that, at the time, you weren't ready. Maybe you are now, but Louis isn't, I don't think," he explained.   
"That's not fair. Why do you get to know?" I whined.  
I remembered how Louis had been so upset when he hadn't known why I was cutting and all the other boys did. I supposed that I was in almost the exact same situation.   
Now that I knew how it felt, it really fucking sucked.   
"Because I know you and they didn't know if you should know, so they asked me," he sighed.  
"He didn't like...try to kill himself, did he?" I asked in a small voice.   
"No. Not as far as I know. There was a time when we thought that he might, though. This...thing that he had to go through was incredibly traumatic, and he was already dealing with the trauma of what happened with you. It's a sensitive subject, H. Don't bring it up unless he does," Felix warned.   
"I won't," I grumbled, "I'm trying to avoid talking to him anyways."  
Felix eventually left and I realized that I was incredibly alone in the house with Louis. There was no way to dodge him if he wanted to talk.   
Part of me wanted him to make me listen. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to fall deeper in love with him because it was such an amazing feeling when I wasn't torturing myself with the knowledge that he would never be mine.   
I wanted him to tell me what had happened to him. I wanted to know what had added all of the years etched into his face.   
I wanted him to look at my scars with that dumbfounded look of grief and hurt and fear and worry. I wanted him to trace them with his fingers and beg me 'never again'.   
I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss my scars and my face and my mouth. I wanted everything that I couldn't have.   
I wanted him to do a lot of things.  
I laid in my bed and waited.   
But he never came.

 

Louis's POV

'Harry Styles, age 19, was admitted into a rehabilitation center six months ago after an attempted suicide and months of starving and self-harming.   
"I think I was dead for a long time before I actually tried to, you know. I didn't really care about anything. I just sort of was in a daze most of the time," Styles says.   
When asked about what caused his downward spiral, he remains tight-lipped.  
"It's rather personal to me. I'm not ready to share it. I know that a lot of people think that it's because of the fame or getting hate, but it's not," he says.  
Wouldn't everybody love to know, though! Long before he attempted suicide, it was obvious that he wasn't doing very well. In many pictures, his ribs show through his shirts, and if his sleeves or bracelets aren't all the way down, some of his scars are visible.   
It was a scary time for everybody.   
"I know that I caused a huge amount of people stress and worry. My friends, family, the fans. I tried to hide it for a while, but again, I got to a point where I just didn't care about anything but trying to make it through another day."  
We all know how we felt when we first saw those pictures of the emergency room. (See on the bottom) All of the boys were looking out of their minds with worry, but Harry was missing.   
And then Liam dropped the bomb via Twitter.

''You've probably all seen the pictures, and we feel that you guys deserve to know the truth. Harry tried to commit suicide today.' 

'He has been stabilized but he isn't awake yet.' 

'It is in no way our fans' fault, it was because of something personal to him.' 

'We really need everyone's support right now so please send your thoughts this way.' 

'I'll try to keep you guys' updated.''

Of course, the whole One Direction fandom all but exploded over the news.   
Everybody on the Internet virtually held hands and prayed for Harry Styles.   
But six months of being carefully monitored, we have to admit that he looks great.   
"They're very careful. I hate to say it because it is rather horrible, but I was addicted to the pain of hurting myself. So when I was allowed to, I worked out. I used the pain from pushing my body to its limits instead of cutting," he explains.  
We have to say that it definitely payed off. Wait until you see his new muscles!   
"I am better. I mean, a lot of people don't realize that self-harming is just as much of an addiction as any drug. So I do have to deal with that every day, but it's definitely gotten better. One of the things that always kept me from suicide was knowing that I would hurt people. And it got to the point where I didn't even care. But I think that if I ever do slip again, which I definitely don't think that I will, the memory of my family and friends and seeing what they had to go through because of me will keep me from going too far," Styles says, a definite sadness in his voice.   
Hopefully, he doesn't.   
When asked for any other comment, he just smiles and says, "I'm so happy to be back. I'm really excited to be able to return to doing what I love and seeing all of the fans and people who I wasn't able to see for six months. It'll take a while to adjust, but I'm looking forwards to it."  
We're just as excited for his return!'

I rolled my eyes and exited out of the website.  
Harry had apparently called management back and fed them a few quotes to give to the media. Now every blog and magazine was shitting themselves to make articles about it.   
He hadn't said anything much, really. I knew that management wanted him to have a whole conversation with details and such on a talk show or something.   
It had been three days since he had seen me in the kitchen.   
I hated thinking about it.   
I had seen the bewildered, guilty look on his face before he had all but ran away.   
I had simply put my head back down and resumed crying with vigor.   
In three days, I had seen more of Felix than I had of Harry.   
I hated Felix with a passion, and he knew it. I had a feeling that he was almost smug about it.   
He was always so fucking happy around me and it drove me crazy to see them cuddled up on the sofa watching a movie or hearing them giggle on Harry's room.   
The only time I ever saw Harry without Felix was in the morning when we sometimes awkwardly met in the kitchen and at night when I dutifully asked if he needed anything and if he had eaten enough on that given day.   
He always said no, he was fine, and yes, he had eaten enough calories.  
Harry was getting restless, I could tell. I knew that he hated being cooped up for long. He couldn't get out of our house and I wondered how long it would be until he was allowed.  
I felt bad, really. But it gave me the opportunity to at least try and engage a conversation without him leaving the house.   
It never worked.   
I yawned and put my laptop down, tired of seeing all of the articles about Harry. I turned on the television to some random show and drifted off into my own mind.  
I didn't hear Harry come in.  
I jumped about a foot off of the sofa when he lightly tapped my shoulder.  
I whirled around. There was the tiniest smile on his face and it quickly vanished when our eyes met.  
"Sorry," he muttered, "Um. So management said that I have that big interview thing in two days. It's um, solo, I think, but they want you all there, so. It's in the evening, I think. I don't know, they'll probably call you."  
"Oh. Thanks for letting me know," I said quietly.   
He hovered for a moment, anticipating that I would add something.  
"Do you want to watch this with me?" I asked.  
Harry hesitated, glancing at the screen and then back down to the floor.   
"You weren't watching it in the first place," he commented.  
I smiled lightly.   
He didn't.  
"No," he added.  
He turned around and vanished up the stairs.   
My smile faded and I swallowed thickly.  
I remembered a time where he would have eagerly complied. He would have sat down on my lap and nuzzled into me like a cat. We probably wouldn't have payed attention to the program, just each other.  
But it wasn't that time any more. Now was a time that he avoided me at all costs. God forbid that he even brush against me, let alone sit on my lap.   
I absently wiped a stray tear off of my cheek and sniffled, trying to keep the rest from coming.   
I turned back to the program. I had no idea what it even was about, nor did I find that I really cared.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little bit of a discrepancy. Originally, Harry did know about the whole half-rape thingy with Louis, but I decided to change it. I changed it on my Wattpad account, but I forgot to change it here, so I should probably do that. Thanks for letting me know!!  
> Love you!

Harry's POV

I began to wonder if there was something seriously wrong with Louis.   
Every day when I saw him, the dark circles under his eyes were only more prominent and his eyes more bloodshot. When he spoke, his voice was gruff and slurred.   
"We going together?" he asked quietly as I pulled my shoes on, "Or seperate cars?"   
I blinked at him. I hadn't really thought about it.  
We were getting ready to go to my interview. I wasn't looking forwards to it but I wasn't dreading it. I felt like I would start speaking and never stop. I was worried that I might say too much.  
"I guess together. Makes sense," I replied shortly.   
He nodded and brushed his hair out of his face. If I hadn't heard him shower, I would have thought that he had simply rolled out of bed and decided that he was ready.  
"If it doesn't bother you that people will see us together, that is," I couldn't help but snap, "God forbid that they might think we're in a relationship or something."  
I saw him cringe out of the corner of my eye and he seemed to shrink back away from me. I didn't look up at him. I knew what I would see.  
Guilt, regret, hurt.  
Three emotions that I had caused.   
It made me feel so sick, hurting him, but I had to.   
It was a horrible excuse. I didn't have to. I chose to.   
I didn't have to look at him in order to hear the choked noise that he made.   
I volunteered to drive. I felt like he would fall asleep at the wheel if he did.   
To say that it was incredibly awkward would be an understatement. He didn't try to talk to me. He simply leaned against the window and stayed quiet.   
I kept the radio on to try and take an edge off of the stifling silence, but it didn't do much. I could feel his temptation to speak bubbling up in his throat.   
But he never did.   
When we arrived, I noticed a few paparazzi. I didn't know how they had known where we would be.   
"Just get in as quick as you can," Louis sighed, irritated.   
"I went to rehab because I tried to kill myself, not because I have amnesia. I'm not stupid," I snapped, turning off the car.  
Again, I couldn't look at him.   
We got out of the car and hurried towards the building. I heard questions being called at us, but I didn't pay any attention to them. I simply lifted my hand and waved politely.   
When we got inside, we were almost immediatly found by an assistant and all but dragged to where the rest of the boys were waiting.   
Louis hung back as I exchanged customary high-fives and hugs with Zayn, Liam and Niall.   
I'd noticed how apart from them he seemed to be when they had come over to our house. Instead of being the life of the group, he faded into the background.   
"Oh, goddammit, Louis!" Zayn suddenly cried.  
Louis looked up, startled.  
"What?" he asked.   
Zayn simply took his arm and marched him out of the room.  
I blinked in confusion.  
"He's not sleeping again," Liam explained, "It's pretty obvious with just one look at him. He hardly slept while you were gone. He almost fainted walking up a set of stairs because he was so exhausted at one point. When he was in Doncaster, his mum apparently convinced him to take some kind of stuff to help him sleep. It's for kids and its fairly weak, but it was the only thing he would agree to."  
"Said he didn't like sleeping medication. It reminded him of you know, what you tried," Niall added.  
"And now I'm guessing he's stopped taking it. Do you know if he's slept?" Liam asked.   
I shrugged.   
"He was up in the middle of the night at one point. And he's always awake before me. But I dunno," I mumbled.   
Zayn returned, an angry-looking Louis trailing behind him.   
"I'm fucking fine," Louis growled under his breath.   
"I said, end of discussion," Zayn replied firmly.  
I shifted uneasily, absently scratching my wrist. It was a bit of a habit that I had. It wasn't self-harm, it was just something that I'd started doing when I was uncomfortable. It was like biting my nails, except not.   
"Oh, good. You're all here!" a woman said, poking her head into the room.  
She bustled around, clipping a microphone onto my shirt and babbling on about something that I didn't pay attention to.   
"So, it's really about you, but we'll have the other boys with you, just to show that they're supportive and all," she said quickly.   
"'Course we're fucking supportive," Louis muttered under his breath, then, louder, "Wait, we were told that we would just be waiting back here and he would be on by himself."  
She blinked at him as if she hadn't noticed that he was with us.   
Her lipstick was red, like her wild, curly hair. They were obnoxious and loud, like her personality.   
"Oh? Maybe you heard it wrong," she said, "No, you'll be with him. You just won't do much speaking."  
"I don't think that I heard it wrong. Maybe I got told it wrong," Louis growled, his eyes narrowing.   
The woman had already gone back to fussing with me.   
Niall put his arm around Louis's waist and I noticed that his fingers were digging into Louis's hip. He muttered something into Louis's ear and Louis visibly deflated, the tension leaving his body. He shook his head at Niall.  
Niall's relaxed his fingers from Louis's hip and squeezed his whole arm tightly. A comforting gesture.   
I started to turn away right as Louis looked towards me. I met his eyes for a brief second. They were so, so sad and defeated. I felt my own eyes prickle with impending tears.   
I quickly faced away from him and coughed a few times to clear my head.   
The woman was still talking but it was incredibly obvious that none of us were paying any attention.   
Liam was trying, but his eyes were glazed and his expression disinterested.   
Zayn was picking at a nail.   
Niall and Louis were whispering behind me, but I couldn't hear what they were saying.  
"Got it? Good!" the woman said brightly, clapping her hands.   
"No," Louis mumbled behind me.   
I wondered how sane the woman even was. She led us towards the stage, chattering the whole way. I had a feeling that we could have walked away and out of the building without her noticing.   
"Okay! Wait here for just a few minutes until you get announced, then walk right up to that couch and have at it. Now, is there anything that you don't wish to talk about?" she asked brightly.   
I really, really hoped that she wasn't our interviewer.   
"I don't want to be asked anything," Louis growled softly behind me.   
She gave him a quick, curious look and nodded.   
"That shouldn't be a problem. Anyone else?" she asked.   
We all shook our heads.   
Louis took a small step away and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest. His teeth sunk into his lower lip.   
The woman finally left, her wild, red hair bouncing away with her.   
"Does anybody know what's going on?" Zayn asked, scratching the side of his nose.   
"No," Liam admitted, "I tried, but. No."   
Louis was now backed up against a wall, several steps away. His head was tipped back and his eyes closed. His arms were still tightly wrapped around himself.   
Liam noticed, following my gaze.   
"Lou?" he called.  
"Hmm?" Louis replied.  
"Are you okay with doing this?" he asked.  
Louis opened his eyes and uncoiled his arms.   
"There's a lot I'm not okay with, Liam. Why not add something else?" he snapped, raising his eyebrows.   
Liam sighed, "You don't have to if you don't want to. We can say you got sick or something."  
"This coming from the person who was always on my arse about missing them before," Louis challenged.   
"That was because you walked out in the middle of them. And you missed more than you didn't," Liam sighed.   
Louis glowered at him.   
I forced myself to look away from the exchange. Somebody had to pay attention to when we were supposed to go on.   
After a few more minutes of frosty silence, our name was announced. We ambled onto the stage and sat down on the couch. The interviewer smiled at us.   
Thank God it wasn't the woman from beforehand.   
It wasn't an interview with an audience, but it was live.   
As we shook hands with her and got situated, suddenly, nerves exploded in my stomach.   
I wasn't ready. I hadn't done something, anything in front of people, live, for six months. There were Felix's and my videos, but those could be edited and refilmed.   
What if I said something wrong? What if I said too much? What if I didn't say what everyone wanted to hear?   
I was going to mess up, I knew it.   
I felt Niall's hand on my knee and he squeezed gently.   
I exchanged a quick look with him.   
"You'll be fine," he said, almost inaudibly.   
"So, I see that One Direction is now back to being five members strong," the interviewer said.  
We all nodded.  
"Yeah, s' great to be back," I added, smiling.   
"Everyone's in an uproar, as you can guess," she chuckled, "I imagine you've seen the trends on Twitter."  
"Uh, no, actually. I wasn't allowed online at the center and I don't have my phone back yet," I said.   
"I think Louis has it. I gave it to you, right?" Liam asked, leaning forwards to look at Louis.  
Louis shrugged.   
"Probably. I'll look," he sighed.   
"That's right. You two live together now, correct?" the woman asked.  
I nodded.  
This was branching into a very, very uncomfortable territory.   
"I mean, I'm not supposed to live by myself now and Louis offered, so," I mumbled, scratching absently at my arm.   
She had an expression on her face that let me know that she knew that I was uncomfortable. I tensed up, expecting her to keep pushing at it.   
She didn't.   
"So Harry, tell me what everybody wants to know. What exactly happened to Harry Styles that made him try to commit suicide?" she asked instead.  
She tilted her head thoughtfully.   
"Um. Well, I've said before that I'm keeping the reason why private for now and I know that everybody wants to know it. I'm just not comfortable sharing it. It's driving me crazy though, I've said a few times that its not the fans or the fame's fault and people still think that it is. If anything, the fans were what kept me from trying something so drastic sooner," I said, "They gave me a reason to keep living, to keep pretending that I was okay."  
She nodded.   
"But it was obvious that you weren't," she commented.  
"Yeah, I know. It was pretty obvious that I'd lost a lot of weight and I just didn't look healthy overall. I don't know if there's any pictures out there that you can see my cuts in, but there probably are. I didn't really try to hide them," I said, "I didn't care if people saw. A lot of people already had an idea that I was hurting myself, they only needed the proof."  
"If you don't mind me asking, when was the first time that you harmed yourself?" she asked.  
"The first time? I don't really know when it was. But I remember like what happened and everything, I think. I dunno, I was having a bad day in general, I think, and I was really stressed out and upset. I don't remember why. I was making myself some food and I picked up a knife to cut something. I knew what cutting was obviously, but I'd never considered it before. I don't really know what happened. One second I was fine and the next I was bleeding everywhere," I said quietly, "And after that, it just snowballed until I couldn't go a day without it. It was never about hating myself or something like that. It was just a form of release, the physical pain took the edge off of how much I was hurting inside for at least a few moments."  
She nodded.  
"What about your weight loss?" she asked.  
"I never really thought that I had an eating disorder. I was depressed for a really long time before everything went out of control. Basically, some days I just wasn't hungry or I forgot to eat. Then some days turned into everyday. When cutting wasn't enough, I started making myself throw up. I never cared about losing weight, it was just another form of temporary release. But as you can imagine, even though cutting and purging made me feel better for a few moments, they only increased how depressed I was in the long run," I explained.   
"So, what was going through your mind when you decided to try and take your own life?" she prompted.   
I knew that Liam had mentioned in their first interview afterwards that I had been with Louis beforehand, but I wasn't going to say it myself.  
"I mean, in the morning, it was just like every other day. I woke up, didn't eat, spent most of the day on the Internet. In the early evening, something obviously happened and I'm not going to say what, but it was enough that I just snapped. I remember not even being able to think because it hurt so bad, this thing. I got home and I just knew that I couldn't keep living. I physically couldn't force myself to live any longer. I just completely went on auto-pilot. I couldn't control myself and my mind just shut down. I remember not being able to breath because I was hyperventilating. I genuinely can't say what exactly happened after that, except I got really calm all of a sudden. I remember taking pills, a whole lot of them, and no matter how deeply I cut, it was never enough. The vertical ones were first, cause you only cut vertical when you're trying to kill yourself cause the wound can't clot as well, and I just kept cutting until I think I must have collapsed. I really don't know. My last clear memory was probably from a half hour before; everything after that is blurry," I said.   
I waited a moment for her to ask me something else. She didn't, so I looked up.   
She was looking with a sympathetic expression at Louis.   
"Are you alright?" she asked gently.  
I steeled myself and leaned forwards to see.   
He had his hand over his mouth and tears rolling down his cheeks.  
"Fine, fine," he said quickly, his voice breaking with every word, "Just a bit emotional. Sorry."  
"Don't apologize," she said.  
I had to look away. I blinked rapidly and bit the inside of my cheek. I couldn't cry.   
I heard Louis sniff and try to compose himself.   
"And then came the tweets from Liam that actually broke Twitter," the interviewer said, trying to get us back on track.   
I sat back and let Liam talk.  
"Yeah. There were pictures of us in the waiting room and it was obvious that Harry wasn't there with us, so all these theories started popping up. Most of them were actually right, being about suicide. But I figured that we owed the fans the truth, so I tweeted, yeah," Liam said.  
"What was it like, sitting there and waiting? It must have felt like forever," she said.  
Almost perfectly in sync, everybody looked at Louis. I risked a glance. He was still teary-eyed, but he was looking back at me with an angry, hurt expression.   
I looked away, exhaling shakily.   
"It really did feel like forever. It took about three hours for them to get him completely stable, but we weren't allowed to see him until the next day," Liam quickly said.  
"What was it like when you first woke up, Harry?" she asked.  
"That's pretty blurry too, to be honest. I don't mean to be blunt, but I really did want to die, really badly. And waking up...waking up was probably similar to what everyone else would have felt if I had actually died. I remember my sister having to leave the room because seeing me like that was really upsetting. I think I just kept screaming 'no' and begging her and my mum to kill me," I said.  
I heard Louis make a hiccuping noise and Niall, who was between he and I, put his arms around him.   
"I think that seeing firsthand how just coming close to losing me affected people will always keep me from going down that road again," I added.   
"And then came rehab," the interviewer said.  
"Yeah. I have to admit that I was a horrible patient at first. I threw a bowl of, I think it was broth, at a wall because I didn't want to eat. At lot of people don't realize that you can't just feed somebody as malnourished as I was a five-course meal. My stomach shrank as I got thinner and in the beginning, I couldn't handle a little broth without throwing up. And it hurt a lot, I got the worst stomach cramps," I said.  
"At least you know what it's like for a girl on her period now," the interviewer quipped.  
It was so unexpected that I laughed in surprise. Everyone else started laughing and then I couldn't stop until my sides ached and I was hiccuping.   
"Comedic relief," she explained, chuckling.   
"It was good," I assured her, "Anyways. Yeah. Even now it still hurts sometimes. I was eating takeaway the other night and it hurt pretty bad afterwards."  
She nodded seriously, the humor gone.   
"So how was the whole rehabilitation process? I can imagine that it was quite the struggle," she said.   
I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek as I thought.   
"Yeah. It was. I mean, it took probably four and a half months for me to not want to die anymore. Felix, my roomate, had to restrain me at times when I would basically rip at my skin with my nails. I had anxiety attacks too, a lot. I got really angry one day and I completely tore apart our room and then proceeded to have the worst panick attack that I've ever had. In the beginning, everybody always told me how strong and brave I was, but really, I think that if I could have, I would have tried to kill myself again without a second thought. My life was...it was pain, for lack of a better word. It hurt to breath, it hurt to think, but eventually, it started to hurt a little less. And then a little less. And that's when I really started to get better, I think. I probably wouldn't have been able to do it if Felix hadn't helped me. He probably did more for me than my therapist, honestly. He's my best friend," I said, smiling slightly.  
I heard Niall mutter something to Louis in a low, warning tone, but I couldn't make out what he said.  
"There are still days that it's harder to get out of bed in the morning and when I want to be able to feel that release again, but I'm better. I'm so much better than I ever really expected," I continued.   
"That's really wonderful to hear," she said, sounding genuine, "Now for the rest of you, would anybody like to comment on what happened? You don't have to unless you want to. I understand that it's a sensitive subject for all of you."  
I decided that I really liked her as an interviewer. She was sympathetic and genuine and she wasn't pushing topics that she could tell that we were uncomfortable with.   
"I guess...it's hard to describe. It's so, so hard to look at somebody that you love as they're literally killing themselves for months and months, and then when it finally happens...," Zayn said quietly, his voice breaking, "I think the worst was this horrible guilt that we all felt. We had all seen that he wasn't doing well; we knew that something would eventually happen. But we never did anything and we've been kicking ourselves for the last seven months because of that."  
"I think...well. It's just like, nobody knows what it was like to actually find him. We knew. Once we figured out what had happened before, we knew what he was going to do. I just remember that I was going to scream because we couldn't get to his flat fast enough. We definitely knew when we found that his door was locked, because he rarely locked his door," Liam said.  
"I tried to buy myself time," I murmured.   
"Yeah. We knew that. And I remember just shouting at Niall to call 999 and running to Harry's room. And when we opened the door...," Liam choked.   
I'd never explicitly spoken with them about what had happened when they had found me. My heart was constricting so tightly that it hurt.   
Everybody had tears in their eyes, but I could hear Louis hiccuping and trying to stifle his crying in Niall's shoulder.   
"Really, had Liam not been there, Harry probably wouldn't be here. He just ran right in, tied shirts around Harry's wrists, and started giving him CPR. I wouldn't have known what to do," Zayn admitted.  
"You were busy dragging me away," Louis said suddenly, his voice tight, "And I hit you. Sorry about that, by the way."   
"Yeah," Zayn said slowly, apparently having not expected Louis to volunteer that information.   
"And I was busy on the phone," Niall said, attempting to break the tension.   
"But afterwards, waiting at the hospital, it felt like days, months, even, while we were being kept in the dark," Louis said, almost spitting out the words, "When he went to the clinic too. It felt like months between when we got to talk to him."   
The group drew a collective gasp.   
He wasn't going to do it during a live interview, explain how I'd ignored him for six months, how I'd done it because I was unbearably in love with him.  
He wouldn't.  
He couldn't.   
He didn't.  
He quieted and relaxed back against Niall, signaling that his piece was over.   
Everybody else relaxed as well.   
"It really did feel like ages between when we saw him. We saw him once a week and we're used to a lot more than that, so yeah, it was hard to get used to," Liam added quickly.   
The interviewer nodded, her expression telling me that she noticed the sudden shift in the mood.   
"Well, I think that that's all the time that we have for right now. Thank you so much for sharing your story with me, all of you, I appreciate it," she said.  
We stood up, shook her hand again, and exited.   
Louis immediatly shoved in front of me and bolted away.   
Liam swore under his breath and trotted after him.   
"Don't worry about it, H. He's just upset. It's hard for him to hear about all that stuff," Niall said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.   
"I'm not worrying about it," I said shortly, "But we took his car and it would be nice if we could leave soon."  
Both Niall and Zayn stared at me. I looked straight ahead and ignored them. 

Liam's POV

Louis darted around until he found a loo. He slipped inside, but I caught the door before it could close and followed him.   
He paced around, hands furiously scrubbing at his eyes.   
"Louis," I said quietly.   
I didn't know if he knew I was there.  
He apparently didn't, because his head snapped up.   
"What the fuck do you want? To humiliate me even more?" he snarled.   
"Jesus Christ, Louis, no! I just want to make sure that you're alright," I sighed.   
"Well, isn't it fucking obvious that I'm perfectly fine?" he snapped.   
"Lou, just calm down. It's okay, we all got upset," I said, trying to soothe him.  
"You didn't cry like a fucking baby! Christ, Harry is going to be so pissed, I've ruined everything, he'll call me a burden to the band," Louis growled.  
He seemed to be talking to himself, like he had forgotten I was there.  
"Why would he say that, Louis?" I asked.  
I wanted to reach out to touch him, but I knew that touching wasn't allowed.   
He jolted as he noticed that I was still there.   
He stilled, stopping his pacing.  
He raised his eyebrows and scoffed.   
"Oh, please. As if you haven't noticed. Maybe you haven't. Of course, he's probably sweet as pie to you lads. You've got no idea what he says to me when you're not around. He knows what'll hurt me, so that's what he does," he growled, baring his teeth like an animal.   
For a brief second, his anger disappeared and the hurt and fear that I saw in his face made me start to reach out to hug him, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had come and I snatched my hands back.   
"It's so fucking hopeless. I don't want to be mates with him again if he's going to treat me like shit the whole time," he hissed.  
I stared at him. I knew that Harry wasn't exactly being nice to Louis, but Louis was making it sound a lot worse than I had thought.   
"Listen, Louis. We need to go, so you need to settle down a little, okay? Harry's not going to say a word, I promise," I said, hoping that what I said was true.  
Louis sagged, his shoulders slumping and his eyes tiredly looking up at me.  
"Don't make promises that you can't keep, Liam. It only hurts people more," he said, exhaustion clear in his voice, "Gives them false hope and all that shit."  
He pushed past me and exited the loo. His shoulders were tight and drawn up and he shoved his hands into his pockets.   
I followed him.   
We caught up to Zayn, Niall and Harry quickly. Louis dropped back so that he was shuffling behind the rest of our group as we were herded down the hallway.   
"What the hell have you been saying to Louis?" I hissed in Harry's ear, careful that Louis didn't hear.  
Harry gave me a strange look.  
"Haven't been saying much at all, to be honest," he said, shrugging.  
"Why did he say that you were going to be angry that he cried? He said that you would say that he was a burden to the band or some shit. He made it seem like you're bullying him when we're not watching," I growled.  
Harry snorted.   
"Louis does have a tendency to be a little dramatic, don't you think? Look, Liam. I'm trying to keep his and my interactions limited. I'm not 'bullying' him. I'm being civil- nothing more, nothing less. If he can't take that, oh well," he said simply.   
I hesitated before saying, "You're lying."  
He raised his eyebrows.  
"Of course, Liam. You know everything, don't you?" he snapped.   
He sped up to catch up with Niall and Zayn and I was left to wonder what the hell had just happened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, somebody on Wattpad made this playlist for Untouchable-  
> http://8tracks.com/bossy-bleach-lover/untouchable
> 
> It's so cool; you should check it out. I always appreciate it when you guys do things like that.  
> Love you!  
> P.S Merry Christmas!!

Harry's POV

Afterwards, we went to Liam's. I didn't want to go and I could tell that Louis didn't either, but Liam, Niall, and Zayn coaxed us into it.   
Coaxed as in forced.   
I stayed quiet in the car as Louis drove. Guilt was a lump in my throat that I just couldn't swallow. He'd thought I would be angry with him for crying?  
I probably would have used it against him at some point, though. But now that Liam had heard, I couldn't.   
I didn't want to be mean to Louis. Liam had to understand that. I just had to act like it so that Louis would stay away.   
It was working, actually. He flinched every time we brushed against each other walking past each other in the hallways of our flat while I felt heat spread through my body. He avoided talking to me unless it was necessary. He hardly acknowledged me.  
It didn't help the ache in my chest. I was making him scared of me, scared of my voice. It was a horrible feeling and it was like an arrow through my chest every time I made him cringe.   
Wen I heard him crying at night, I curled up in my bed and did the same.  
"We're going to stay for the smallest amount of time possible. I don't want to be here; I don't care if you do," Louis growled as we walked up to Liam's door.  
I rolled my eyes, but I didn't notice if he noticed.   
Niall opened the door and gestured for us to come inside. He put his hand on Louis's shoulder as he walked past.   
"Don't fucking touch me!" Louis snarled, darting away.   
"Sorry, Lou. Forgot," Niall mumbled, blue eyes guilty.   
I'd noticed how cautious everybody was around Louis. So much as a fingernail touched him and whoever was at fault tripped over themselves with apologies. I'd even witnessed Felix do it.   
He had shook the interviewers hand, I remembered. But he had pushed against the edge of the couch, sitting as far away from Niall as possible until he went to him for comfort. Even then, their thighs hadn't touched.   
"Hey!" Liam greeted, "You guys want something to drink?"  
"I would love a drink," Louis grumbled, collapsing on a sofa.   
"Water it is," Liam replied, unfazed, "For all of us."  
"Just because he can't drink doesn't mean I can't?" I whined.   
Louis looked at his feet.   
"Just because you can't cut doesn't mean we can't?" Zayn said, his tone low and warning.   
"That's different," I protested.  
"No. It's really not," he said, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken challenge.  
Louis had his arms wrapped tightly around his chest and his knees drawn up.   
"Whatever," I sighed.   
"You guys can drink. I'll be fine. It's not as bad, I swear. I can handle being around it," Louis said, his voice tiny and hesitant.   
I looked at him. He looked like he was trying to make himself become part of the sofa.  
I wanted to hold him and whisper apologies into his ear until he believed me.  
I wanted to kiss him silly so that he knew how much he really meant to me.   
"Great," I said instead.   
"Harry," Liam hissed, slamming a glass of water down in front of me.   
I rolled my eyes at him.   
He, Niall, and Zayn talked for a while. I occasionally chipped in. Louis continued to sit silently, holding himself tight.   
"We really should start rehearsing songs again. I'm pretty rusty; I don't know if I remember all of them," Niall admitted.   
"Not now," Zayn grumbled, "I don't want to do that until we have to."   
I hummed in agreement.   
"Anybody write anything?" Niall asked.   
I had a couple phrases that I had come up with in my head, but nothing substantial enough to be a song.   
"Maybe a bit. A few verses, maybe a chorus," Liam said, shrugging, "Not much, really."  
"Doesn't really matter yet," Zayn said, "I mean, they want us to come in to talk about a new album so we can at least keep that on schedule, what with everything being pushed back."  
I hummed in agreement.  
We ended up ordering pizza, none of us wanting to really cook anything.  
I watched Louis pick at it, silently nibbling on a slice. He was drinking a lot of water, I noticed. I had a feeling that it was to make up for what he couldn't drink.   
I wanted to know how bad it had been. Everyone made it out like it had been really bad, but I knew that Louis wasn't stupid enough to let himself get addicted to something like I had.   
"FIFA?" Liam suggested, "We haven't played it together in ages."  
Everyone but Louis nodded, including myself. Louis loved FIFA; I thought that it was adorable how competitive he got. I'd always wanted to kiss the pout off of his face when he lost, which was rare.  
He sat silently as Liam and Niall played first. He sat silently as Zayn played Niall. He sat silently as I played Zayn.   
"Lou? You want to play?" Zayn asked after he had beaten me.  
Louis shook his head.   
"No," he mumbled.   
He looked absolutely miserable and my heart ached as we made brief eye contact.   
"Are you sure? You love this," Liam said, his eyebrows crinkling together.   
"I don't love anything," Louis muttered, "And I don't want to play."   
Niall, Liam, and Zayn exchanged worried looks.   
"If you're sure," Liam said slowly.   
Louis simply glared at him until he looked away. I couldn't look away. Even despite the exhaustion plaguing his features, he was still the most breathtaking human that I had ever seen. I just wanted to see his eyes glitter again, but they were so dull. Instead of the clear ocean blue that I had drowned in, they were the pale grey of the sky when it wasn't sure if it wanted to rain or not.   
He glanced at me and I turned around, unable to hold eye contact with him for too long.   
We played a couple more rounds and ate the rest of the cooling pizza.  
"Lads," Niall snorted suddenly.  
He jerked his chin toward Louis.  
Louis was asleep, or at least appeared to be. He had at some point laid down, but he still had his body curled into a tight ball, his cheek pressed into the arm of the sofa. His mouth hung upon slightly, his gentle breathing moving hair that hung in his face.  
I thought it was unbearably adorable.   
"If one of you wakes him up, I will actually kill you," Liam growled, "Who knows when he last slept."  
They all looked at me. I looked resolutely at Louis, avoiding their stares.   
"He looked really sad tonight, did anybody notice that? Like, normally he doesn't really look anything at all, but he just looked sad," Niall said.  
"I think mentioning the drinking got to him a little bit," Liam said, and with a pointed look, "Harry."  
"What? I didn't know!" I protested.  
"Yes, you did. You knew that it would hurt him, so you pushed it. And you got what you wanted; you upset him," he retorted.   
"Lads," Niall murmured, "Don't wake him up."  
Liam and I glared at each other, but neither of us said anything more.   
"You don't think that he's faking, do you?" Zayn asked suddenly.   
"No. He always keeps his mouth closed when he fake-sleeps," I said quietly.  
I remembered times when he'd playfully try to trick me into thinking that he was asleep. It never worked. We knew each other too well. Plus, he'd burst into laughter as soon as I started to tickle him.   
I hated remembering all the things that I'd lost because I'd fallen in love with him. I'd tried to keep acting normally at first, and it had worked, but after we had stopped living together, I'd fallen apart. It was useless trying to cuddle with him or nip at his neck when all he did in response was push me away.   
I wanted to hate him but I couldn't because every time I tried, I fell in love with him a little bit more.  
I was in love with every little bit of him, even how infuriatingly not in love with me he was.   
I snapped back into reality when Louis sat up with a panicked gasp.   
Liam immediatly rushed over to him.  
I couldn't look away. In the few moments that it took for Louis to realize that he was awake, his expression was one of terror and it was twisted in pain, as if he had just gotten stabbed. He was gasping for air, his eyes flicking wildly around the room.   
"C'mere, Lou," Liam murmured.  
He helped Louis stand on shaking legs. Louis's entire body was shivering and his eyes were wide and full of unshed.  
"The usual?" Liam asked quietly, leading Louis out of the room.   
I didn't hear Louis's mumbled response, but I saw him nod.   
The air was thick and heavy, suffocating me.   
Niall and Zayn were alternating between staring at each other and staring me.   
"What was...um, what was that about?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably.   
The look of distress on Louis's face had burned itself into my mind. I wanted to find him and comfort him.   
"He has nightmares a lot. Mostly about you, honestly. But sometimes about, um, other things," Niall said, glancing at Zayn, "Liam's usually the one to calm him down afterwards. You know, cause Lou's usually pretty shaken up. It takes him a while to remember that they're not real."  
I nodded. The air seemed even heavier. I wondered if either of them would say anything if I used my inhaler.   
I took it everywhere with me, especially if I was somewhere with Louis. I wrapped my fingers around the shape of it in my jeans. Knowing that it was there calmed me down slightly.   
Liam came back in, sans Louis, after a few stifling minutes.   
"I tried to get him back to sleep in my room. You can just wake him up whenever you're ready to go, Harry," he explained.   
I didn't trust myself to speak, so I shrugged indifferently.   
"He okay?" Zayn asked.   
"As okay as he can be. I think it helped him settle down, seeing Harry right after," Liam said, "It was the usual dream. It's mostly just having to get him to know that wasn't his fault afterwards."   
I gripped my inhaler more tightly. I was beginning to feel my heart beat more quickly. I could guess what Louis blamed himself for.   
God, I'd known in my haze while writing my suicide note that Louis would blame himself. I'd specifically told him not to.  
I sighed, shifting to stretch my legs.   
"Harry?" Liam asked.  
I grunted in acknowledgement.   
"Do you know if he's been having these dreams?" he asked.  
I shrugged.  
"I don't bloody sleep with him. How should I know?" I growled.   
"I was just asking," Liam said, raising his hands defensively.   
"I think I'm going to go," I said, standing up.   
"See if Louis' awake, will you?" Liam asked, "It's only been a few minutes, so he probably will be."  
I glared at him, but I went up the stairs obediently.   
I knocked gently at Liam's door but no response came, so I stepped inside.   
Louis was curled up on his side, facing away from me.   
"Louis?" I called softly, "Louis?"   
He didn't move, so I crept closer to the bed. I hesitated before reaching out and tapping his shoulder.   
I couldn't help gently rubbing up and down his side. The warmth from his body spread into mine and I had to smile.   
"Hey, Lou, we're leaving. You gotta get up," I said, leaning closer and sitting down on the edge of the bed.   
"Hmm?" he murmured.   
"We're leaving. You gotta get up, sweetheart," I said, the pet name slipping out before I could stop myself.   
He rolled over, all but on top of me and blinked up at me, sleep still clouding his eyes.   
"Carry me," he mumbled, resting his cheek on my thigh and shutting his eyes.  
My heart swelled with affection as he snuffled into my jeans.   
"C'mon, Lou," I sighed, tentatively removing my hand from his side and threading my fingers through his hair.  
He smiled and shifted closer.   
"Carry me," he repeated, "'m to sleepy to stand."  
I didn't say anything for a few moments, concentrating on how silky and soft his hair felt as I pulled my fingers through it.   
"I'm too sleepy to carry you," I retorted.   
The instincts to push him away and make him hate me were long gone. My heart ached, but from the heavy weight of affection and love that I felt. For a few minutes, neither of us felt any pain. We were just being Harry and Louis and it felt so wonderfully familiar.   
"Carry me or we're not leaving," he mumbled.   
He seemed to be on the verge of well-deserved sleep. I couldn't bring myself to take it from him.   
I removed his head from my thigh and I untangled my hand from his hair.   
"C'mon, then," I sighed.  
He pathetically lifted his arms. I laughed quietly. I leaned down and hoisted him up, holding him against my chest. He wrapped his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck.   
His breath was warm and gentle on my skin as he tucked his face into my neck.   
It reminded me of when he'd jumped at me when we'd seen each other for the first time at the center.   
I tightened my arms around his lower back, desperate to be close to him again, even for just a little while.   
I stumbled down the steps, his added weight unbalancing me.   
When I returned to where Liam, Niall, and Zayn were sitting, they silenced and gaped at me.  
"He wouldn't go unless I carried him," I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.   
I had a feeling that Louis was already asleep again. His breathing was shallow and steady and his body was lax in my arms.  
"So you go from being a complete bastard to carrying him?" Liam snapped.  
I gripped Louis tighter, like I was afraid that Liam might take him away.   
"We're leaving," I mumbled, shifting Louis a bit so that he was higher in my arms.   
I knew that Liam wanted to retort, but he didn't, snapping his mouth shut.   
"Goodnight, mate," Niall called, feigning cheerfulness.   
I made my way out the house, struggling a bit with opening and closing the door. Louis' head was heavy but comfortable on my shoulder.  
I wasn't sure how to get him into the car without waking him up. I shifted him to one arm to open the door. I bent, my arms straining from his weight pulling me down and tried to maneuver him into the seat.   
He stirred and looked up at me, a small smile on his face.   
"You carried me," he murmured, eyelids heavy.   
"Yeah," I said, "Yeah."  
I shut the door and walked around to the other side so that I could get into my own seat.   
As soon as I sat down, Louis rested his head on my shoulder.   
"I thought you didn't like to be touched," I blurted.   
"Yeah. But, you. You're fine. Cause you're Harry," he said.   
"How does that work?" I asked, "Why am I different?"   
He shrugged.   
"You're Harry," he repeated.   
It wasn't a very long drive back to our house and Louis stayed awake, blinking sleepily out of the window.   
He kept his head on my shoulder.  
I was almost sad when we got to our house. Louis removed his head and looked at me.   
"You wanna carry me inside?" he asked.  
I snorted and shook my head.   
He followed me inside, his feet falling heavily as exhaustion weighed down his body. I kicked off my shoes, his presence silent but incredibly loud behind me.   
I felt the ache start to return, the need to hurt him until he hurt me emerging from the recesses of my mind.   
It had been a horrible mistake, slipping back into the natural, easy orbit around Louis.   
I turned around to face him. He was watching me. He'd felt the shift in my mood, I could tell. His eyes were wide and alert.   
"Harry," he whispered.  
There were a million pleas in one word.  
I swallowed, a lump thick and inhibiting in my throat.   
"I can't," I choked.   
I stumbled forwards and cupped his face in my hands, my thumbs swiping over his cheekbones.   
He sighed and shut his eyes, melting in my hands. He was so close and I was shaking as I touched him.   
It would be so easy to kiss his mouth, I realized, he was relaxed and still as he sagged against me. He had his face upturned as if he believed that I would. As if he wouldn't mind if I did.   
I exhaled shakily.   
Before I could stop myself, I was bending down and kissing his forehead. I left my mouth there for a few moments before pulling away.   
"Oh," Louis sighed, his eyes slowly opening.   
They were slow to focus, his entire body leaning against me as if he couldn't support himself.   
I dropped my hands and backed away.   
"Goodnight, Louis," I mumbled, before turning and fleeing to my room.   
I slammed my door behind me and slid down it. I gasped for air as I fumbled to rip my inhaler out of my pocket. It clattered to the floor and I scrambled after it.   
I jammed it in my mouth and took a puff of it. It took a few moments for my vision to clear and my throat to open up so that I could breath.   
My heart was accelerating as I crawled towards my bed. I pulled myself up and lay in my bed, shaking and willing my heartbeat to slow.   
How stupid was I? Why the fuck had I kissed him? It was his forehead, sure, but it almost felt more intimate than it would have been if I had kissed his mouth.   
He was so tempting, small and warm next to me, big and cold. He was larger than life, the sun that I orbited around. I couldn't live without him, but if I kept doing stupid things like kissing him, I would have to.   
I fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning. Weird, tortured dreams plagued me.   
I got up early, creeping out of the house to go to Felix's. I knew that I wasn't really supposed to leave without a guard, but I needed to breath without somebody on my arse.   
Felix opened his door, surprise showing on his face as I all but fell into his arms.   
"Mum and Dad took Addy to her physical therapist. We're by ourselves for a while, babe. Tell me what's wrong," he murmured, pulling me up to us room and down onto his bed.   
I babbled out the story, clinging to him desperately.   
He stayed quiet for a while after I was finished, focusing on petting at my hair.   
"Harry, I think if you talked to Louis, you might be surprised with what he would have to tell you," he murmured, "He's not the same Louis that to used to know. That includes how he feels about you."  
"Yeah. He hates me," I sighed.  
"Christ, no. Louis couldn't hate you if he tried. And he's tried, trust me," Felix said.  
"I just can't believe that I kissed him," I mumbled, shaking my head.   
"I kiss your forehead all the time," he said.  
"But you can deal with how you feel about me. I can't just go around and treat him how you treat me. It hurts so much, Felix, you don't even know," I sighed, "Like, you sort of get it, but you don't at the same time because you can still act like this with me and be okay. I can't do that with him."   
"Harry, you really need to talk to him," he suddenly said, "Before you say something that actually really hurts him. You can say a whole lot to him, but never, ever physically take it out on him. That will not end well."  
"I can't talk to him, Felix! And why the fuck is everybody always telling me to be careful with him? He's not a doll!" I snapped.  
"Relax, H," Felix murmured, "He's just a lot more mentally fragile than it can seem, that's all."  
I nodded, my quick burst of anger fading into the background.   
I stayed with him for the entire day.   
Addy and his parents eventually came back.  
I loved watching Felix interact with her. The bond that they shared was really cool to me. They were closer than any brother and sister that I had ever seen, even Gemma and I.   
"You should go," Felix eventually said, "Louis' probably freaking out, wondering where you are."  
I made a face and looked out the window to the sunset.   
"I don't care," I mumbled.   
"Yes you do," Felix said, raising his eyebrows.   
I rolled my eyes.   
He ended up pushing me out of his house, me sticking my tongue out at him as he closed his door.   
When I got back to Louis' and my house, I sat in my car for a few minutes, procrastinating going inside.   
Finally, I steeled myself and went inside.   
Louis was perched on the sofa by the front door. He jumped up as soon as I walked in.  
"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.   
"Doesn't matter," I muttered, trying to push past him.   
"It kind of actually does!" he snapped, "Do you know how worried I've been? You could have at least told me you were leaving!"   
I shrugged, trying desperately to appear indifferent.   
"I'm nineteen. I don't need a babysitter. If I want to go out, I will," I sighed, feigning irritation.   
"Harry, I'm supposed to be watching you. I get if you don't like that, I wouldn't either, but I'm just trying to keep you safe," he said quietly, his previous boldness disappearing.   
I rolled my eyes and sneered at him, exaggerating slightly.   
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, "You want to keep me safe? Stay away from me."  
Louis tugged his lip between his teeth and shrank back.   
"I...I meant to tell you. I'm sorry about yesturday, you know, crying during the interview," he said.   
I snorted.  
"Yeah. What the fuck was that about, anyways? You become some sort of pussy or something? Christ, you make this band look like a group of pussies," I hissed.   
It was cruel and vulgar and I felt sick saying it. It left a bad taste in my mouth.   
Louis squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head before opening them.   
"I'm sorry. I know you said not to, but I just feel so guilty, you know? Like everything's my fault," he said shakily.   
He sounded so scared and insecure that I had to blink rapidly to keep from tearing up.   
I laughed bitterly, twisting my mouth into a cruel smile.   
"You actually believe that?" I spat, "Of course it's your fault. You know it's your fault; you have to know that I blame you for everything. Are you stupid?"   
He made a noise like I had punched him in the stomach. Tears almost immediatly started to fall and he opened his mouth, but no sounds came out.   
"You said it wasn't my fault," he whimpered, then, raising his voice to a scream, "You said it wasn't my fault!"   
He stormed past me, shoving his shoes on.  
"Where are you going?" I asked.  
"Out," he sobbed.  
"Don't...um. Just be safe," I whispered.  
Louis whirled around to face me and for a second, we both thought that he would hit me.   
"Be safe," he mimicked, "I know you don't care. I thought maybe for a second, last night, that we could be like we used to again. But of course not. Cause all you care about is yourself! You don't care about me!"   
Louis sobbed the last sentence, turning around and leaving, slamming the door behind him.   
I shuffled to the sofa and slumped down onto it, covering my mouth to stifle my own tears.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry's POV

I didn't bother getting up from the sofa for hours. I lay there, shaking and crying. I knew that I'd really hurt Louis. I knew that he was really sensitive when it came to feeling guilty and I'd used it against him.   
I heard voices then somebody fumbling to unlock the door. I sat up just as Liam stormed in, supporting a stumbling, drunk Louis.   
A very, very drunk Louis.   
Liam took one look at me and his expression turned murderous.   
He sat Louis down on the other sofa before coming over to me. He jerked me up by my shirt.  
"What the hell did you do?" he thundered, "Are you a complete idiot?"  
"What's happened?" I asked, "Why are you mad?"  
The next thing I knew, I was reeling backwards, the force of Liam's fist knocking me back down onto the couch.   
Blood spattered down my shirt and onto the floor. I gaped at him.   
"What the fuck?" I snapped.   
"Li...Lim. Lim," Louis slurred, pawing at his shorts, "Li-mmm."   
I had no idea how Liam understood what Louis was trying to say, but he was hauling Louis to his feet and shoving him towards the kitchen.   
The next second, I heard Louis retching violently.   
I followed, taking off my shirt and holding it to my bleeding nose. I hissed in pain. I wasn't sure if it was broken or not, but Liam definetely knew how to hit.   
Louis was heaving into the sink, Liam simultaneously supporting his body and keeping his hair out of his face.   
I grimaced. Liam shot me a glare that made me back away a few steps.   
"I had to stop at the fucking hospital to make sure that Louis wouldn't die of alcohol poisoning. They said that he would be fine. They didn't pump his stomach, so I had to stop three different times so he could vomit, you bastard," he hissed, "What did you do?"  
"I didn't do anything!" I protested.   
Louis clumsily wiped his mouth.   
He slurred something that I couldn't understand.   
"Come on, Lou. Lets get you to bed, okay?" Liam cooed, "I'll put a bin next to your bed in case you need to get sick again."  
Louis stumbled, way past being too intoxicated to walk.  
"Do you need help?" I asked.  
"You fucking think I'm letting you anywhere near him?" Liam spat, "I can handle it."  
I nodded, unsure of what else to do. I waited for about fifteen minutes in the kitchen before Liam came flying back downstairs and towards me.  
"Now fucking tell me what you did to him," he growled.  
"I didn't!" I said.  
He grabbed my shirt again.   
"Louis has worked so fucking hard to stop drinking. You have no idea how difficult it's been for him to quit. You're the only one with the power to make him go back to that," Liam said, "Now tell me what you did. Or what you said. You've been crying; I can tell. You know you hurt him. So tell me right fucking now what happened."  
I swallowed thickly. I was genuinely terrified.   
"I...I went to Felix's this morning. And Louis was pissed that I didn't tell him. So. We sort of argued," I tried.   
Liam shoved me into the counter, my back digging into the edge painfully.   
"You didn't sort of argue. Something triggered him. What did you say?" he roared.   
"He said that he cried during the interview because he felt guilty and responsible for everything that happened but that he knew that that isn't true but then I told him that it is all his fault for everything and that I blame him and then he got really upset and I asked where he was going and he said out and I told him to be careful and he said that I don't care about him and then he left," I blurted.   
Liam stared at me.  
And then I was crumpling to the floor, pain exploding from my face and fresh blood gushing out of my nose. If it hasn't been broken before, it definetely was after the second hit.   
"How fucking stupid are you?" Liam yelled.  
"I'm sorry," I groaned, spitting out blood that had made its way into my mouth.   
"You're going to just turn around and hurt him again tomorrow. You're not sorry; don't give me bullshit! Jesus Christ, get out of my sight before I break something else!" he snarled.  
I scrambled away and up the stairs, sprinting to my room and locking the door behind me. I fell to the floor, heaving for air. I deserved the broken nose. I deserved Liam yelling at me.   
I threw stuff around my room, trying to find my inhaler.   
My lungs forced air in and out, but my throat was closing up. I couldn't breath and my hands shook as I found my inhaler and picked it up.   
It hit against my teeth as I shoved it into my mouth.   
After I had sufficiently calmed down enough to stand, I crept across the hallway to my bathroom.  
Well, fuck.  
My nose was definetely broken, splatters of blood across my face and clothes. There was a bump where the cartilage had been broken.   
I hissed in pain as I carefully cleared the blood off of me. In another part of the house, I faintly heard Louis getting sick again. 

 

Louis's POV 

I woke up with bile rising in my throat and my head in absolute agony.   
I leaned over the edge of the bed and threw up. There wasn't a whole lot left in my stomach. I was sore, so I assumed that I had gotten sick several times previously.  
My head exploded in pain from the movement of rolling over and my vision tunneled as I hung over the side of the bed.   
I hardly remembered anything. I remembered leaving the house and driving to the closest pub I could find. I sat in a dark, secluded corner and cried as I knocked back shot after shot of some kind of drink. I had no idea what they were, but they had been strong and that was all that had mattered.   
I had no idea how I had gotten home. I really, really hoped that I hadn't called Harry.   
My mouth tasted like I had eaten some kind of dead animal and I almost got sick again just from the taste. It felt like the fur was still on my tongue.   
Somebody had been nice enough to leave pills and a glass of water by my bed. I doubted that it had been Harry. I didn't think that he knew what the word 'nice' even meant.   
The throbbing pain in my head kept me from thinking about what Harry had said. But the pain in my heart kept me from forgetting.   
I stayed in bed, wallowing in my own misery and hangover until my bladder and dry mouth demanded otherwise.   
I braced myself on the wall as my head spun and my vision blurred. I shuffled to the toilet and relieved myself sitting down.   
Christ. I had definetely not missed the hangovers that came with getting drunk.   
I finally managed to drag myself downstairs to the kitchen after spending an hour in the shower.   
"Louis."   
Liam walked into the kitchen, eyeing my skeptically.   
"Why're you here?" I asked.  
"I took you home last night. I figured that you probably wouldn't remember," he said.  
I got myself a glass of water and sipped at it carefully, not wanting to make myself sick again.   
"He's not here," Liam said, "He had to go get his nose looked at to see if it needed to be reset."  
I stared at him blankly.   
"Yeah, you probably don't remember that either. I hit him. Broke his nose," he said, shrugging.   
"I don't remember a whole lot," I said quietly.   
He sighed.   
"If you're going to lecture me, I don't need it. I know I fucked up. I know I did. Just...I just want to be alone for a while," I mumbled.   
Liam stepped closer, opening his arms.  
"Can I?" he asked.  
I nodded, my face crumpling and tears springing to my eyes as I let him hug me.   
It felt nice to be comforted, even just for a moment.   
"It wasn't your fault, Louis," he murmured, "You know that he was just saying that because he knew that it would upset you."  
I shook my head.   
"He wouldn't lie to me," I sniffled, "He hates me now; I get it. I just need to adjust to that."  
"Christ, you're an idiot," Liam muttered, "He is lying to you. He doesn't blame you at all, Louis, he blames himself if anything. He's trying to push you away. It's what he's been doing ever since the hospital, but now he doesn't have anywhere to hide from you. He's trying to make you stop trying, okay? He loves you more than anything and he doesn't know what to do, so he's taking it out on you."  
I shook my head again, but less feverishly.   
"Harry can't act for shit, Liam," I argued weakly.   
"He's gotten a little better at it over time. He's just channeling all the negative emotions that he feels and directing them at you," Liam said.  
"Sounds complicated," I mumbled.   
"He is complicated," Liam agreed.   
I stepped back and wiped at my eyes.   
"My head really hurts. I think I'm going to go back to bed," I said.  
He nodded.   
"Do you need anything?" he asked.   
"No," I sighed.   
"I'm worried about you, you know. And Harry. He'll come around eventually, you'll see. He can't resist you for very long. He already slipped up the other night," he said.  
"You can keep thinking that, Liam. But it won't happen," I sighed.   
He didn't say anything else, just huffed in exasperation at me. I ambled away and up the stairs to go back to my room.   
My head throbbed and my body ached as I crawled back into my bed. I got back out of bed to move the bin with bile in it outside of my room.  
I'd take care of it later, I told myself.   
I curled up underneath my covers. I fell asleep quickly, my headache making it impossible to stay awake.   
When I woke up again, it was late evening and my headache had gone down to a dull throb. My nausea was gone and it was replaced by the pangs of hunger.   
I wondered if Liam had left. I hoped that he had. I didn't feel like talking.   
Fortunately, he had. Unfortunately, Harry was in the kitchen already.  
He turned around when he heard me.   
I eyed the bruise splashed across his nose.   
There was a hard edge to his posture as soon as he noticed me.   
I braced myself for him to lash out at me and asked, "What are you making?"   
He blinked at me, mild surprise showing on his face.   
"Soup. You literally have no food here," he said.   
"It's your house too. You can get your own fucking groceries," I retorted.  
I built a case made out of his insults and accusations around my heart. I couldn't let him in again. He couldn't know how else to hurt me.   
"You're always the one saying that I'm not allowed to go out in public yet," he retorted.   
"You're the one that said that I'm not your babysitter. It's obvious that you won't listen if I tell you to do or not to do something, so I decided that I'm not going to try," I said, shrugging.   
"Took you long enough," Harry said.   
Suddenly, he smirked and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms.  
"So, theoretically. If I wanted to cut myself, you wouldn't tell me not to?" he asked.   
I cringed and Harry noticed.  
"If I didn't want to eat, you wouldn't make me? If I forced myself to throw up, you wouldn't keep me from doing it?"   
I bit my lip. I had thought that I would manage to gain some kind of leverage, but he was taking my words and throwing them back at me.   
Harry pushed off of the counter and walked towards me. The smirk on his mouth vanished, his eyes darkening. I backed up. He followed me.   
My back hit the wall and he towered over me, one hand on the wall to brace himself.   
He leaned down, close enough that his breath fanned over my face.  
He was so close and so frightening that I lost control of my grip on reality for a brief moment. It was long enough that his face was able to blur into Ben's before I jerked myself back into my own mind.   
"If I were to go try and kill myself, you wouldn't stop me?" he hissed.   
I was frozen, fear racing through me.   
"Please don't," I squeaked.  
He whirled around and took a few steps away from me. When he turned around, his teeth were bared viciously.   
"Please don't?" he snapped, "Please don't? That's all you have to say? I bet you'd watch me do it, wouldn't you? You wouldn't do a fucking thing."   
"That's not what I fucking meant, Harry, and you know that! Jesus, I know you're trying to piss me off, but don't even say I wouldn't do a thing. Don't ever say that," I snarled, surprising both of us.  
"You didn't stop me the first time," he said quietly, his anger vanishing.  
There was a moment where he looked almost vulnerable. I blinked at it vanished.   
"I didn't know the first time," I said, "I should have. But I didn't."  
He darted forwards and grabbed me by my biceps. His grip was hard and it hurt, but I didn't struggle.   
"Why didn't you do anything?" he asked, his eyes and his voice wild and desperate, "You could have fixed me, why didn't you?"   
I stared up at him.   
"Because I couldn't. Not back then," I whispered.  
He shook his head viciously.   
"Why couldn't you see it? Everyone else could," he insisted, shaking me.  
"You didn't want me to know," I replied, struggling to control my voice.  
My arms were throbbing where his hands were gripping me, but I didn't tell him to stop. He was touching me and I never wanted him to let go.   
"It was so much easier when you didn't know," he whispered, "I was trying to protect you. I didn't want you to get hurt because of me."  
Suddenly, I was pushing him away, wrenching out of his grip.  
I fixed him with the deadliest glare that I could make.   
"Really? You have the nerve to tell me that you didn't want me to get hurt because of you? After you intentionally hurt me every single fucking day?" I spat.  
He shook himself, his mask slipping back on.  
"Well, excuse me if you've become incredibly fucking annoying. I can't imaging why I ever thought that I was in love with you," he retorted.  
Okay. That hurt.   
I stared at him, my arms crossed.   
Then finally, "Your soup is boiling over," I said, keeping my voice cool.  
He swore and dashed towards the stove, turning the heat down.  
I used the distraction to disappear from the kitchen and into the shower.   
It was the second time I'd showered, but the way that Harry had cornered me against the wall brought back memories and feelings that I tried to escape from.   
I scrubbed at my skin until it was red. It was a routine that I barely ever noticed myself doing. I was just desperate to get rid of the feelings of Ben touching me and his sweat slick and heavy against my skin. No matter how many times I washed myself, I knew that I would never stop being disgusting and worthless. Nobody would ever want somebody like me, used and broken goods.   
I stayed in the shower until it ran cold, something that I had also grown used to.   
When I was done, I pulled on the first clothes that I found on the floor of my room and collapsed in bed.  
Despite my vicious hangover, I found myself craving something to drink.  
I groaned and pulled myself out of bed and crept downstairs. Harry wasn't in the kitchen.   
I got myself a glass of water and drank it quickly. It did absolutely nothing.   
I pulled at my hair and paced the kitchen. It had been a horrible mistake to drink. The cravings were at least a thousand times worse than they had been after they had been sated for a brief amount of time.   
I drank another glass of water. I needed some kind of relief.   
Furious that the glass held water instead of alcohol, I whipped it as hard as I could at the wall. It shattered upon impact.  
I waited for Harry to hear it and come down to see what had happened.  
He didn't.   
Frustrated and angry, I swept my arm across our table, knocking everything that had been on it off. Some mail, some sort of calorie chart for Harry, and my phone fell to the floor.   
My phone didn't break, which almost disappointed me.   
"I want a fucking drink!" I screamed at it, kicking it across the room.   
It was loud enough that I knew that Harry would have had to have heard.  
I wanted him to come down to check on me, to at least showed that he cared a little bit.  
I kicked the shattered glass, scattering it everywhere. It cut the bottom of my foot and I screamed again in pain and anger.  
I collapsed in the middle of the kitchen, sobbing. I tore at my hair and my skin.   
I needed a drink.  
I needed Harry.

 

Harry's POV

"I want a fucking drink!"   
I froze.   
Louis's angry yell had come from somewhere downstairs; I had to assume the kitchen.  
A few moments later, he screamed again.  
I got out of my bed and crept downstairs. I peeked my head into the kitchen.   
There were papers scattered on the floor and shattered glass everywhere.   
In the center of it all was Louis.   
He was yanking at his hair as his chest heaved with his sobbing.   
He was chanting something through his tears and I strained myself to hear better.   
"Wannadrinkwannadrinkwannadrink," he gasped.  
I was all but paralyzed.   
If he looked up, he'd see me, but I didn't care.   
I watched him for what felt like a long time. He rocked back and forth, crying hard.   
His foot was bleeding. Seeing the broken glass, I assumed he'd stepped on it.   
I sat down against the wall, twisting and peering out from the doorframe.   
After a good hour, his crying slowed to hiccups and he picked himself up off of the floor. I ducked behind the wall before he could see me.   
"Fuck," he mumbled.   
I hated hearing how upset he sounded. I hated knowing that I'd driven him to drinking; that I'd created an addict out of him.   
I listened to him clean up the glass, occasionally sniffling. He picked up the papers from the floor and set them back onto the table.  
I quickly scrambled to the living room. He'd see me if I tried to escape up the stairs.  
Louis ended up seeing me anyways.  
He froze, staring at me.   
"You've been right here the whole time," he said, his voice thick and rough.   
"Since you took a shower, yeah," I lied.  
He narrowed his bloodshot eyes.   
"You didn't bother to maybe see what was wrong?" he hissed.  
"No," I said simply.   
I braced myself for his reaction.   
Louis's face crumpled.   
"Fucking bastard!" he sobbed before whirling around and stumbling up the stairs.  
I heard a door slam a few moments later.  
I ran my hands over my face and through my hair.   
I knew that I was trying to make him hate me, but it wasn't what I wanted.   
Hurting him was killing me. It was so hard to act indifferent as I watched him destruct in front of me.   
I tipped my head back and swallowed my own tears. I got up and went upstairs.   
I paused outside of Louis's door. I could hear him crying inside.  
I reached out and rested my hand on the handle.   
I came so close to opening it and going inside to comfort him.   
But I didn't.  
I just kept walking.


	7. This Isn't a Chapter

So basically, I've got horrendous writers block right now. Everyone on Wattpa always gives me really cliche suggestions to put into the story, so I'd thought I'd try over here. I have next chapter all planned out and so on, but I have no idea what to do for this chapter.   
So, please comment suggestions?  
Love you!


	8. Chapter 8

Louis' POV

I stayed as far away from Harry as possible. I had to check his body once a day for new cuts and make sure that he had eaten enough, but other than that, I refused to speak to him.  
It was hard, though.   
We'd pass each other in the hallways sometimes and we'd brush against each other. Just touching him for a moment made me miss him that much more.   
We had another interview. Magazines and talk shows were falling all over themselves trying to get us on. Harry had only done the magazine article and the televised interview. Everybody wanted to be the next one to interview him.   
I put zero effort into getting ready. I didn't bother shaving or showering. I put on my baggiest jeans and my most worn t-shirt. I was going to show Harry that I didn't give a flying fuck about him or the interview.   
I lazily made myself tea and toast and sat on the counter while I waited for Harry to come downstairs.   
When he did, I cringed.   
He wasn't wearing a shirt. I could see fading scars littering his chest.   
We exchanged brief eye contact before I went back to my toast.   
"You have a half hour to get ready," I said, flicking a crumb off of the counter.   
"So do you," he said.  
"I'm already ready," I corrected, kicking my heels against the cabinets.  
Harry straightened up from where he was perusing through the refridgerator and glanced at me.   
"They won't let you wear that," he snorted.  
I raised my eyebrows.   
"I've worn trackies and a zip-up more than once. They don't care what I wear anymore, as long as I stay for the entire time," I snorted.   
He blinked at me, pausing with an egg in his hand.   
"Why?" he asked.  
I barked out a laugh, "Because I don't want to be there?"   
I hopped off of the counter.   
"I don't want to talk about you; I don't want to hear about you. Management knows that; the lads know that. So they'll do whatever it takes to get me there. If they have to bite their tongue about what I wear, so be it. If I don't say a word, who cares? At least I'm there, yeah?" I hissed.   
Harry nodded slowly.   
For some reason, it pissed me off.   
"You know what? I'm not going today," I snapped.   
"You kind of have to," he said.   
"You're the exotic animal that everybody wants to see. Nobody cares if the fucking monkey over here shows up of not," I retorted.  
He chuckled.   
My blood boiled.  
"Actually, the monkeys are my favorite exhibit at the zoo," he said.  
I took the egg from his hand and threw it at the wall. It exploded into a mess of yolk.   
I stormed out of kitchen and I was locking myself in my room when it hit me.  
I had thought that he had been making fun of me.   
He hadn't been.  
If anything, he had been complimenting me, flirting with me even.   
Then I realized that he had done it because he knew that it would piss me off.   
I had no idea why I was so angry or what I was angry about. Harry just had a way of getting under my skin with the simplest of actions.   
I paced my room for about twenty minutes, finding the mindless action slightly calming.   
My phone buzzed from where I had tossed it on the bed.   
I sighed and picked it up.  
"What?" I snapped, not bothering to check the caller.  
"You're going," Liam replied.  
"Harry told you," I said.  
"Yeah. And you're going," he repeated.  
"You said that I didn't have to do it last time. I'm merely taking that option and applying it to this time," I said.  
I could hear him roll his eyes.  
"That's not how it works. Look, if this is about what Harry said the other night-"  
"It's not about what Harry said!" I yelled.  
"Christ, Louis, relax. Look. I get if you don't like talking or listening to us talk about everything, I really do. But come on, Louis. Please come?" he pleaded, "Managment will shit themselves if you don't show up."  
My head started to pound and I sat down on my bed.  
"If this is about proving a point to Harry, Louis-"  
I interrupted weakly, "I don't think he believed me when I told him that I used to skip interviews all the time and that I kinda get to play by my own dress code now."  
"So you're trying to show him that you can skip if you want to," Liam said, "Louis, you're acting like a child."  
I snorted irritably. I shoved shoes on my feet and jogged down the steps.   
"I'm not," I argued, fighting the urge to pout.   
"You kind of are. Okay, so we took pity on you for a while. We let you slack a little. That doesn't mean that you can do it whenever you want now. You have to act like an adult. You can't just do whatever you want again," Liam snapped, "You're a big boy, Louis. You have big boy responsibilities. Just because you've gone through some traumatic things doesn't mean that you can use the pity card to get out of things that you don't want to do."  
I gaped at the floor.   
I floundered for words as Liam waited patiently.   
"You think I do that?" I whispered, "I want to forget about it! I want to fucking forget that-"  
I stopped, seeing Harry coming through the doorway.   
"That it ever happened!" I spat, my voice rising, "If you think I'm looking for your fucking pity, you're sorely mistaken. Christ, you're making it sound like I broke a bone or something and needed crutches. Fucking Christ, Liam! Do you not...Jesus fucking Christ, if there was a chance, I was coming today, there sure as hell isn't one now!"   
I hung up.   
Harry was leaning against the door frame, eyeing me warily.  
"What'd he say?" he asked, almost conversationally.   
"Oh, like you fucking care," I spat, storming past him.   
He grabbed my arm.   
He didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at me.   
"I remember you said something once about how you always used to be able to tell what I was feeling and then you just couldn't anymore one day," he said quietly, "I'm looking at you, but you aren't Louis anymore. What happened to you?"  
I swallowed hard. His grip wasn't tight, but his touch burned.   
"I've made some mistakes and I didn't deal with the repercussions well," I mumbled.   
His eyes bore into mine, curious but hard.   
"I wish that I had never fallen in love with you," he sighed, dropping my arm.   
I blinked, feeling my body go hot. That subject was all but taboo.   
"It would have kept you from getting hurt," he added.   
"I only got hurt because of myself. I hurt you so many times, Harry," I breathed, "I never did anything to help you when I found out that you needed it. I hurt you because I didn't know how else to handle it. I took advantage of you. I fucking drove you to try to kill yourself, Harry, Jesus."  
I wanted to touch his face, to smooth out the furrow between his eyebrows.   
There was a painfully long silence.   
Harry stared down at me, eyes cautious and calculating. He was biting his lip, hard.   
Finally, he sighed and straightened.   
"You're so fucking infuriating, Louis. I think part of me hates you, I really do, and even more of me wants to hate you, but I just can't. Because here I am, trying to fix myself, and here you are, and all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you," he blurted.  
And then, much softer and much more helplessly, "Why won't you just go away?"   
My throat started to ache from my effort to keep from crying.   
I wanted to scream. I wanted him to hate me; I deserved him hating me. I'd been such a horrible friend, a horrible person at that, to him. I'd treated him like a toy that was mine to play with if I got bored.   
"You're going to be late," I said.  
I didn't think that he would reply. I didn't give him the chance.   
I walked away and went up the stairs. I tried desperately to swallow my tears.   
Once that I heard him leave and drive away, I crept into his room and into his bed. I curled up in his sheets and cried.  
It was dark when I heard his car again. I scurried from his room and downstairs to the kitchen. When he came inside, I held my breath until he entered the kitchen.   
We orbited around each other for a few tense minutes. He dug around in the cabinets and I quietly sipped a glass of water.  
"Everybody's pissed that you didn't show," he said.   
"I figured. I have like thirty missed calls from management," I said, "I don't really care. Did you get asked where I was?"  
"We just said that you weren't feeling up to coming," he said, "S' not a lie. But it's not the whole truth."  
I nodded, although his back was turned.  
"Felix is coming over, just so you know," he said.   
I scowled.   
Before I could stop myself, I mumbled, "Why are you even friends with that twat?"   
I didn't anticipate him hearing, much less understanding what I had said.   
Harry turned around, his expression cold like ice.   
"He's a better friend to me than you ever were," he spat.   
I flinched.  
He was correct, but it still hurt to hear, especially coming from him.   
"I know. I'm sorry," I muttered.  
I got up from the table and retreated. I could feel his glare burning into my back.   
I holed up in my room until I heard Felix arrive. I didn't know what it was about him that I just hated so much. I heard them laughing as they walked past my room.  
Harry's laugh was such a foreign sound. It was so bright and happy sounding and I missed him a thousand times more.   
I squeezed my eyes shut.   
I hated Felix because he could make Harry laugh and be happy and I couldn't. He could talk to Harry without fear of being hurt and I couldn't. He could love Harry and I just couldn't.   
I didn't even really know what love was. Ben had taken it from me and shattered it with a fist to my face. Love was a foreign concept to me. It was like if my emotions were in Pandora's box, there would be a hole between envy and greed where love was missing.   
All I knew of love was that I thought that I had had it with Eleanor. But apparently I hadn't. I knew that Harry loved me enough that he couldn't live without me reciprocating his feelings. If that was love, I was glad that I couldn't feel it. 

 

Mind foggy  
Dark room  
Cold sheets  
Breathing calm  
Sleepy  
Door flying open  
Harry  
Hands on my throat hands on my skin hands ripping my clothes heavy weight I can't get up no this isn't right Harry face down pillow suffocating hands hands hands hands behind my back fear tears Harry this isn't right Harry stop Harry Harry Harry bite scratch hit pain screaming I can't stop screaming gag no gag gag in my mouth screaming still   
Pain pain all I feel is pain no stop Harry pain hurts Harry bite scratch hit mine, Lou, you're mine no I'm not yours no stop Harry please bite scratch hit stop so much pain ripping apart groan growl slut, slut, slut, whore, look at you taking it, no stop I want to stop stop stop   
Done  
Sigh  
Mind foggy  
Dark room  
Cold sheets   
Can't breath  
Screaming  
Never sleep  
Door slamming  
Harry  
Pain  
Screaming  
Harry Harry Harry harryharryharry

 

"Louis!"  
I sat up, almost colliding with Harry. He was leaning over me, his hands on my shoulders and his eyes wide and scared.   
I tried to move away, but he wouldn't take his hands away.   
"I couldn't wake you up and you kept screaming and saying my name and fuck I couldn't wake you up, and I tried shaking you and it wouldn't work and you kept thrashing around but you wouldn't wake up and you hit your head on the edge of your bed and I think that woke you up, but fuck, I couldn't get you to wake the fuck up," he gasped.  
His fingers were digging into my shoulders, burning through my skin.   
"Louis?" he breathed, "Louis, fuck, say something, okay? You're scaring me, Louis!"  
I couldn't say something. I just kept staring at him, my dream feeling so real that I kept expecting him to hurt me. I was paralyzed with fear.   
"Louis, please," he begged, "You're just staring at me and you're really scaring me. Fuck, just say something!"   
He leaned closer.   
Too close.   
I broke out of my paralysis.  
"Get of me, get of me, get off!" I screeched.   
He did, so quickly it was like I had burned him.   
"Louis?" he asked quietly, warily.   
I scrambled into a sitting position and moved back, pressing myself against the wall, as far away from him as I could get.   
"Louis, I'm not going to hurt you, stop looking at me like that," he pleaded, "I swear I won't touch you, I'll never hurt you like that."  
He sounded sincere, but somewhere deep in his eyes, there was a darkness that said he's lying, he hates you, he would hurt you if you let him.   
"Just get out," I whispered, "Get out. Get out get out get out get out!"   
Harry hesitated.   
"Please," I choked.   
I couldn't stand him being with me for another second.   
"Get out!" I screamed.   
He nodded and walked backwards out of my room, his eyes not leaving mine until he disappeared.   
Once he was gone and had closed my door behind him, I let loose the sobs that had been building up in my throat. I clawed at my pillows and pulled on my hair.   
I'd had dreams about Ben before. I'd had dreams about Harry.   
But I'd never had a dream where Harry was Ben.   
I wanted Harry to come back and comfort me so badly but I wanted him to stay far away at the same time.   
I held a pillow to my chest and sobbed into it, digging my fingers into the case until it ripped.   
Needless to say, I didn't fall back to sleep.   
That morning, we had another interview, one a few hours away. I pulled myself out of bed at five in the morning and got ready begrudgingly. As much as I didn't want to go, management and the boys would ring my neck if I didn't.   
I texted Zayn and asked if he wanted to come with us. I did not want to be by myself in a car with Harry for more than the time that it would take to get to Zayn's house.   
As mornings usually went, I met Harry in the kitchen. My skin immediatly prickled when I walked in and he was there.   
He looked up and regarded me carefully.   
"Can I ask what last night was about?" he asked.  
"No," I said simply.  
"Why?" he asked.  
"You don't care," I replied.   
He shifted in his chair and I jumped at the creak that it made.   
"Do I scare you?" he asked.  
"No," I said.  
"You're lying," he muttered.   
I turned around and raised my eyebrows at him.   
he would hurt you if you let him  
I swallowed hard.  
harry pain screaming   
"No. I'm not," I said, my voice level but my hands shaking.  
I hid them behind my back.   
"If you're not scared of me, what happened last night? Why do you flinch every time I so much as move?" he challenged.   
bite scratch hit pain screaming  
I swallowed again.   
"It's not you that I'm afraid of," I replied.  
"What're you afraid of then?" he asked.   
He stood.   
he would hurt you if you let him  
"You don't care," I repeated.   
Harry frowned.   
"Why would you think that?" he asked, eyes widening innocently.   
Something snapped inside of me and my blood boiled.   
"Why would I think that? Why the hell shouldn't I? I'm so fucking tired of this back and forth thing with you! Sometimes you'll treat me like absolute shit and then the next second you'll be perfectly normal! I don't know what to think; excuse me for not knowing if you care or not!" I snarled, "I know that I was a shit friend and I know that I deserve everything that you do to me, but can't you fucking choose whether you hate me or you love me? It's starting to seriously piss me off because I feel like a fucking ragdoll that you're playing with!"   
Harry stared at me, eyes wide.   
"I knew that it wouldn't be all fun and games, living with you. I figured that you hated me; ignoring me for six months sort of clued me in. But I didn't think that you hated me this much, to keep jerking me back and forth like this. Do you like hurting me, insulting me all the time? If you love me, how the hell can you keep treating me like this? I know you're hurting, but I'm hurting too and part of me hates how selfish you can be. But the other part of me knows I deserve it because I was selfish too, before everything happened," I growled.   
Harry blinked.   
"We need to leave soon," he said quietly, before turning around and shuffling out.   
I fought the urge to go after him. I leaned forwards and rested my forehead on the cool surface of the counter until I had settled down slightly.   
"I'm driving," I snapped before he could say a word when we headed outside.   
I needed to be able to focus on something other than my own thoughts.  
He nodded, walking around to the passenger side of the car. The quick drive to Zayn's house seemed to take forever. I was acutely aware of every breath and every movement that Harry made. When we got there, I took my seatbelt off and got out.   
"Go get Zayn. I need to be by myself for a second," I ordered.  
I heard him walk away.   
I sat down on the pavement of his driveway and took several slow breaths. It did nothing to do my racing heart.   
Flashes of my nightmare kept coming back and being physically close to Harry was making it worse. I felt almost sick with the anxiety and stress that it was causing. I scratched at the skin on my arms, wanting to peel away the layers of invisible filth that I felt.   
I felt a hand on my shoulder and I tried to stand and jump away, but in my haste to get away from the touch, I simply fell over and had to scooch backwards a few feet.   
Zayn had his eyebrows crinkled together with worry. He studied me for a moment before nodding and reaching into his pocket to hand me his keys.   
"You can take my car," he said simply.   
Harry observed silently.   
I stood and tried to give Zayn a small smile but it ended up being more of a grimace.   
"Thanks," I said quietly.  
"You're going to talk about it later," Zayn murmured, quietly enough so that Harry probably didn't understand.   
"It was just a dream," I replied, "He was him."  
Zayn nodded, taking in the information.   
"Alright. We'll see you there, then," he said.   
I walked away with a small wave.   
The drive was actually relatively relaxing. I didn't have to think; I just had to focus on not getting myself killed and there was no Harry to distract me. I sang along to the songs that played on the radio.   
Harry and Zayn arrived at the same time that I did. Liam was already there and Niall showed up about ten minutes after.  
We went through the typical pre-interview procedures, getting our hair done and going over approved topics mostly for my sake.  
"My name's Ben; it's great to meet you all," the interviewer said as soon as we sat down.   
I froze. My palm began to burn from where I had shaken his hand.   
It wasn't the Ben, naturally, but my mind replaced his face with his face.   
Niall squished as close to Harry as he could, giving me more room to not touch him. Even then, my thigh burned against his.   
Ben's voice buzzed in my ears. My head swam and all I could see was the other Ben. I stammered out a few answers that probably didn't make any sense, feeling uncomfortably hot when Ben looked at me.   
As soon as the interview was over, I bolted.  
"Need some air," I wheezed.  
I all but fell outside, crawling to lean against the wall of the building.   
It wasn't him, I kept reminding myself, it was just his name.   
It took several minutes for me to compose myself and I was surprised that it took so little time.   
I headed back inside.   
"You okay?" Niall muttered to me.   
"Better," I replied.   
They'd apparently been waiting for me to calm myself down before leaving and they walked out as soon as I walked in.   
Niall's hand twitched like he wanted to touch me but he knew better. He nodded and smiled instead.   
"Proud of you for staying the whole time," he said.  
"I couldn't really move," I admitted, "Thought I might get sick if I did."  
He left to go to his car and Liam caught up with me.  
He asked if I was okay and I said that I was fine.  
"Do you think that you should still be seeing somebody? I mean, it seems like your nightmares are only getting more frequent and more realistic," he said.  
I shrugged.   
"You know how I feel about talking to people," I sighed, "But sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't call Dr. Benson. It'd be easier to keep talking to him than a new person."  
"You should do that. I mean, if just hearing the name triggers you like that...," Liam trailed off, "You can't react like that every time. Really, Louis, it was obvious that you were fine one moment and something happened as soon as you heard his name. The fans are going to pick up on that."  
"I'll give him a call," I promised.   
"Good," Liam said.   
We parted ways. I exchanged keys with Zayn. He would drive Harry back to our place in his own car so that we wouldn't have to both go to Zayn's and then have me drive Harry back.   
I didn't want to be alone with Harry again, so naturally, the drive went entirely too quickly.  
I took off my shoes and perused our refridgerator to see if I could find anything.   
Harry came in.   
I could feel him watching me and it made me incredibly uncomfortable. I turned around.  
"What?" I asked.  
His eyes were cold and distant. I knew immediatly that he was going to be 'mean Harry' versus 'civil and sometimes nice Harry'.  
"Why are you always so dramatic?" he asked.   
I stared at him.   
But instead of feeling angry like I expected to, I suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of sadness wash over me.  
I looked at him as I teared up. I looked at him as I started to cry.   
I had no idea why I was so sad. I wasn't even upset because he had called me dramatic. I was just inexplicably sad.   
I shook my head, a tear dripping off of my chin.  
He watched me silently as I stood there and cried like a small child who had lost his mother in a store. I didn't make a move to wipe the tears away. My hands hung limply by my sides.   
I had no idea how long we stood there, looking at each other.   
I was the first to break the eye contact. I shuffled past him, my shoulder brushing his and all but igniting my skin because touching.   
I climbed the stairs slowly, my tears blurring my vision. I trudged into my room and curled up in my bed.  
There was this huge empty feeling of sadness in my stomach and it had appeared so suddenly and inexplicably. I didn't have a clue why I felt so sad all of a sudden.  
I had been fine coming home.  
It wasn't from what Harry had said. It wasn't because I was hurt or insulted. It was a whole different emotion entirely.   
It was just sad.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry's POV 

I stood in the kitchen for a while after Louis left. Seeing him cry had killed me. Not being able to reach out and wipe his tears away was a special kind of torture.   
I sat down in our living room.   
I was genuinely curious as to what had happened during the interview. He had been his normal self, as normal as Louis could get, and then suddenly it was like he had watched his family get murdered.  
It was strange, the way that the boys seemed to automatically know what to do afterwards, like it was a kind of routine. We'd hung around, all worrying about Louis, but not checking to make sure that he was okay.   
I'd carefully asked Zayn why that was and he had shrugged.  
"We've learned that he just needs space," he had replied, giving no further detail.   
Louis had looked pale and shaken up when he had come back inside and I wanted to grab him and make him tell me what had happened. I was painfully curious, but I couldn't bring myself to ask.   
I'd tried to listen when Niall and Liam had spoken to him afterwards, but I hadn't been able to hear anything. I had a feeling that they were speaking quietly with the intention of me not hearing.   
His nightmare had been terrifying for me. I didn't even know what it was about. I just couldn't get him to wake up. It was obvious that he was terrified in his dream and I wanted to bring him out of it, but I couldn't.   
The look on his face when he had finally woken up had made me feel sick. He looked like he thought I was going to hurt him. But I wouldn't. I would never lay a hand on him. Just the thought of it was unfathomable.   
I snapped the rubber band that I wore on my wrist. I had taken to wearing them again, much to Felix's distaste. The pain didn't feel like it was enough.   
For a brief moment, my eyes strayed to the kitchen. Louis was in his room. He wouldn't know. I'd seen a pretty decently sharp steak knife when I had been searching for a fork.   
I gritted my teeth and snapped the rubber band so hard that it broke.   
I wasn't going to do it. The mental image of the look of sheer disappointment on Louis's face if I did it was enough to make me get up and go to my room.   
I didn't hear anything as I walked past Louis's room, so I didn't hesitate to keep walking.   
I shut my door behind me, like he had.   
It was a habit that we had both picked up when we had lived together the first time.   
As two teenaged boys full of hormones, we naturally needed privacy sometimes. Sure, we'd walked in on each other doing...questionable things, but enough times that it became a bit of a joke between us.   
Now, we were used to closing our doors, even if we really didn't need to.   
I really needed to think of something else other than Louis wanking or I was going to have a problem.   
I sat down on my bed and sighed. I was restless. I hated not being allowed to go out in public. I had all of this pent-up energy and I needed to let it out.   
I knew that Louis had a treadmill and probably a few weights. I hadn't really gone anywhere in his house-our house, other than my room, the kitchen, and the living room, so I'd never used them. I knew my way around, of course; I'd been in his house hundreds of times before.   
I got up, changed my clothes, and left my room. I went downstairs and into what he had always liked to call his workout room. He rarely ever used it. It was mostly to convince himself that he wasn't as lazy as he really was. I found it hilarious and adorable.   
Within minutes, I was running, the slapping of my shoes against the treadmill drowned out by the roaring in my ears.   
It felt good, the burn in my muscles. I had missed it. I ran at a near-sprint for almost forty-five minutes. Louis' treadmill had an approximate calorie loss counter on it and I had to stop when it got too high. I didn't want to have to eat a lot to make up for it. I slowed to a jog and then a walk. The sweat dripping down my body was almost purifying.   
I got off and turned around. I jumped in surprise. Louis was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.   
I tried not to think about his tear-stained face as he regarded me cautiously.   
"Can we talk?" he asked quietly, shifting his gaze to my feet.  
"Why?" I asked.   
He shrugged, shifting so that he could wrap his arms around himself.   
"I just thought...maybe you might want to know what happened. At the interview," he mumbled.   
As much as I did want to know, I shook my head.   
"I don't care," I replied.  
Louis sighed, tightening his arms.   
"Sometimes I think that you do," he said softly, daring to look up from the ground and make eye contact with me.   
"You're wrong. I don't care about you. Not anymore. I don't care about what happened to you or what happens to you in the future. I don't care what it seems like and I don't care about you," I spat.   
Each word felt like barbed wire being ripped out of my throat. I shifted slightly and Louis flinched in reaction.   
I did want to know, I wanted to know so badly why he was scared of me. I wanted to know how I could fix it.   
I waited to see the hurt on his face or the anger that I knew would come.   
But there wasn't any.   
Only sadness.   
Louis nodded.   
"Kinda sucks that I care about you then," he said, the edge of his mouth quirking up into a tiny half-smile.   
"You shouldn't," I said.   
He shrugged.   
"I don't know about you, but I can't just choose whether or not to care about someone, especially when they were my best friend for years and tried to kill themselves because of me," he spat, but there was no venom behind it.   
"Well that didn't happen to me, so," I said, "Now can you move? I'd like to shower and go to sleep."  
Don't move, I thought, keep fighting for me.   
He moved.   
Later, when I was coming out of the shower, I found a stack of paper on my bed.   
I rifled through it. Some were actual sheets of paper, some were just scraps.   
They all began with my name and ended with Louis'.   
I swallowed hard. He'd written to me while I was gone and now he'd left the letters for me to read.   
I didn't know if I could do it. I didn't know what I would see. But I had to. It was easier than talking to him face to face and I was so desperate for answers but I couldn't find the nerve to ask the questions.   
Knowing Louis, they probably weren't in chronological order, but I decided to trust it.   
I picked up the first one. Some of the words were blurred. Tear stains. I sighed shakily. 

Dear Harry,

That sounded so weird. I feel like I'm writing to an aunt or something, someone who I don't know very well. I guess that's you, though, isn't it? I thought I knew you, but I don't.   
I just got off the phone with Eleanor. She told me to do this. Said it might help me clear my head or something.   
It's like, I have all these questions that nobody can answer but you and you're not answering me. I don't know how this will help any, because you're still not answering, but I'm desperate, so I'll give it a try.   
I don't even know what to say now, though. My mind's gone blank. It's been like ten minutes and I'm just staring at the paper.  
I do that a lot, stare at things. I don't know why. I'm alone all the time; there's nobody to talk to, so I just stare at a wall. I'm staying at your place, by the way, in your room. I just need to be close to you. You know how we used to always go to each other when we needed comfort? I guess it's like that, but I can't actually go to you, so I have to go to the next best thing. The lads think it's morbid. I don't. I just miss you. The only morbid thing is that I haven't gotten your carpet replaced yet, so there's still blood everywhere.   
God, this is so uncomfortable, isn't it? You're never going to read this, so what's the point?   
Are you ever even going to talk to me? Maybe it's easy for you not to, but I wish you would think about how I feel.  
Six months is a really long time. February to August. Approximately 182 days, if you count the entirety of February and don't count August. I'm going to go crazy if you ignore me for 182 days, I swear. I can't even handle the time that you've ignored me up until now.   
I get what you're doing; you're trying to heal. But what about me? My best friend tries to kill himself because of me and I have to wait for six months until I can talk to him again?   
I think that's what's bothering me the most, how I'm the cause of this whole thing but you're not acknowledging it. Maybe I'm being selfish; you know how I am.   
I told Eleanor about what happened between you and I. I can't believe that I slept with you. Or called you Eleanor. How drunk was I? I can't believe that I would do something like that to you. How did I never find out? I don't usually forget things when I'm drunk. I mean, I can say that kissing you was probably just a joke to me. I was drunk and you were probably there and to be honest Harry, you're not unnatractive and you know how I am when I've had a lot to drink. All touchy and stuff. But actually having sex with you? I just don't understand. I believe you when you said that we did. I can't imagine why you would lie in a suicide note.   
Speaking of that, Harry, you have no idea what it was like to find you. I had no idea what was going on, but the other lads did, but they wouldn't tell me. They just showed up and when I told them how you reacted, I was being pulled out the door and Liam was speeding to yours. It scared me so bad when he told Niall to call for an ambulance. I didn't know what was going on and it was so scary. I've never been so scared. I can't even described how it felt.  
Can you believe that for just a second, I thought that you had gotten red carpeting? Am I daft? When I realized it was blood, your blood, I can't even explain to you how I felt. I think I might have blacked out for a second cause Zayn had to hold me up and I just remember that he and Niall had to pull me away and I was screaming a lot. I hit Zayn at some point. He had a pretty decent bruise. I don't really remember a whole lot after that. The ambulance came at some point but I don't remember it. Liam gave me the letter when we were in the waiting room. I don't even remember reading it. I almost got kicked out a bunch of times because I kept yelling at the woman at the desk, the doctor too.   
Why are you doing this to me? I can't imagine what's going to happen if you keep shutting me out.  
I've been a shit friend; I know that I have. I'm so sorry; you have no idea how sorry I am. I've used you, I've hurt you time and time again, I've ignored you when you asked a simple thing from me, I didn't even realize you were hurting yourself and I still looked for pity when I should have been doing everything that I could to help you. There's no arguing that I've been horrible to you. I'm selfish in asking you to talk to me. I don't deserve it. I deserve you shutting me out and hating me forever, don't I? Maybe you won't. You're a wonderful person. You've kept on loving me no matter how many times I've hurt you. I don't understand.  
Why do you love me anyways? I'm not special. Some people love me because I'm famous but you're famous too so there's no point in loving me for that. I'm not incredibly attractive either. I don't think that I'm hideous, but my looks aren't anything to praise. My personality is shit; I've already said why. You could have anybody in the world, Harry. Why did you have to fall in love with the only one who can't love you back.  
God, my hand hurts and I'm crying all over this paper but I've still got so much to say. I can't stand not being able to talk to you. It's killing me.   
Do you know how much we all blame ourselves? We all know that we could have stopped you. We knew that you were cutting and starving but not one person ever thought to force you into therapy or rehab. I think that's what's hurting the most. The guilt.   
I remember when we got pizza and you threw up at rehearsal. You said you were sick. I believed you. Maybe you were telling the truth though. You were mentally sick.   
I used to know everything about you. When did I start forgetting who you were? I started treating you like a toy, didn't I? When did I start believing all of the lies that you told me when I used to see straight through them? You're not a good liar, Harry. I'm just so fucking blind.   
I think I need to stop. My hand is hurting and I can't even see the page anymore.   
You know how much I love you, right? I love you so fucking much, Harry, believe me. I'm just not in love with you. I wish that I was, trust me. I want to be in love with you so badly so that you can stop hurting. I hate that you're hurting because of me.   
Love,   
Louis

 

Harry,

I decided the whole 'dear' part was weird.  
Anyways, I think the lads hate me. We had a radio interview today and I didn't want to go. They let me skip the first one we did after you tried to kill yourself because I was a mess. They made me go today, though. Liam yelled at me when I wouldn't get up.   
I ended up walking out. Management is probably pissing themselves.   
I just couldn't handle it. You know how sometimes interviewers can be invasive and it's all you can do to just not quit singing right that moment because you didn't sign up for this? It wasn't even like that. He was just talking about you, obviously. You're the biggest headline right now. It wasn't anything bad, even.   
I just can't stand talking about you. It hurts so badly and it probably shows. I got mad and asked if we could stop talking about it. Niall took me out into the hallway to get out of there for a few minutes.   
We ended up going back in and it was fairly uneventful. Probably because it was only like three minutes until it was over anyways.  
I haven't been sleeping very well. Every time I close my eyes, I see you. Even when I'm awake, I can't stop thinking about you on the floor with blood everywhere.  
Do you know what it's like to see your best friend like that and think they're dead? Obviously you don't. I hope that you never do. I'm surprised that I didn't get sick, actually.   
That image is the only clear thing about that day. I remember that even though you have carpet, it was a puddle. There were pills scattered everywhere. You had blood on your face and everywhere on your clothes. You even had blood in your hair. Your razor was still in your hand.   
I thought that you were dead, Harry. You have no idea what that was like. I was so scared and it hurt so badly. I didn't stop crying for hours.   
When Liam said that your heart was still beating, I cried even harder because you were alive and you have no idea how that felt either. It was like my world had ended and all of a sudden, a flower started growing in the rubble.   
That was a really creative simile. I'm proud of myself.   
I just remember the doctor saying that you were stabilized and that you would be okay.   
You were going to be okay.   
You weren't going to be okay mentally, but physically, you were alive and you were going to go to rehab to be healthy again.   
You know that I've never been horribly religious. I think that there was an angel that protected you, though. God made your heart beat again after it stopped, because it did stop. I haven't stopped thanking him since then, you know. It's a fucking miracle that you're alive. I don't care if you want to be dead, he kept you alive for a reason. It's just so amazing. If we had found you a few minutes later, you would be dead. You'd be gone. You should have been dead, actually, especially with how weak and thin you are. So you're alive and I really do think that you've got a pretty damn good guardian angel, Harry. Thank them for me, okay?   
Love,  
Louis

 

Harry, 

You won't talk about me. You won't hear about me. You won't talk to the lads. You had a panic attack when Liam talked about me.  
Glad to know how you feel about me.   
Am I really such an awful person that just the mention of my name makes you freak out? Have I really made you hate me that much?   
Do you hate me?   
Please don't hate me.   
I don't know what I would do if you hated me.   
You know, I think that I might hate you a little bit, so I guess it's okay if you hate me a little. It's the selfish part of me that hates you for loving me and hates you for trying to kill yourself. I guess the little, non-selfish part of me knows that I deserve it if you hate me more than a little bit.   
Why won't you talk to the lads, though? They're your best friends, even if I'm not. They've been there for you. I know that I never was, but they have.   
I really do think they hate me. I'm a burden. I don't sleep and I'm not hungry and I'm angry all the time. They don't understand why I'm so angry.   
I'm angry because they can talk to you. I'm angry because you won't see me. I'm angry because you tried to kill yourself. I'm angry because you fell in love with me. I'm the most angry at myself.   
The insomnia and lack of appetite only add to my mood.   
That's why I'm angry.   
They can't possibly understand. They're not in the position that I am.   
I'm so alone, Harry. I'm lonely and angry and sad. I think I'm depressed too.   
I think I hate myself.   
Love,  
Louis

Harry, 

They tried to sing without you. I tried to stop them, I really did. I didn't sing. You know how we always said that it's not One Direction if one of us is missing.   
They introduced them as One Direction, Liam said. It's hardly One Direction when it's just the three of them.  
But what can they do? One's in rehab; one's driving himself crazy.  
When I sleep, I dream about you. I don't sleep very much though. I try to so that I can see you. Usually it's you blaming me for what happened and I hate when I dream about that.  
I know that you said that it's not my fault in your letter, but how can it not be? Whose fault is it then? It's not yours. You couldn't help it. But I was the one who kept driving you further down, wasn't I? It had to be me. It's my fault.   
I don't know if I can live with feeling this guilty. There's guilty and then there's what I'm feeling. I feel sick all the time knowing what I did to you. I thought you were my best friend but I think that I never deserved you. Not after all of this.   
I have to block out the guilt and just hurt sometimes. I don't think that I could live if I felt so guilty all the time. I can't even talk to you about it. I can't hear you say that it's not my fault.   
I probably wouldn't believe you if you told me that it wasn't my fault. You could lie all you wanted. But I'd still know that I shoulder all the blame.  
I think I need to stop writing.   
I'm getting myself worked up.  
Love,   
Louis

Harry, 

So. It's been a month. You still haven't talked to me though. It's been so long. I don't think I can do it five more times.   
I saw your video. They didn't ask me before posting it. I guess they did call, but they should know by now that I won't answer. I never answer my phone. I've only talked to Eleanor two or three times since everything happened.   
You look a little better, like you've put on weight. Maybe you look a little bit happier too. I hope that you are happier. Maybe you'll let me visit you soon.   
I don't think that I like your roomate. I didn't like how he touched you, like he's your best friend. I'm your best friend.  
Here I am, feeling so mighty and entitled when I deserve nothing from you. I was your best friend once, but both of us know that I lost that title a long time ago, longer than I realized.   
You deserve everything, Harry. You deserve to be happy and as much as I want to strangle that boy, Felix I think it was, if he's a better friend than I was, you deserve it. You deserve the world.   
And your scars, Harry.   
I don't know if you know this, but when you were in the hospital still, the boys told me that you were asleep and I visited you. You'd just gotten the bandages off or you were letting your cuts breath, but Christ, I came so close to getting sick. There's not an inch of your wrist that you haven't cut into. I can't even see the tattoos that were once there. The ones that went down your wrist were so big and fat, like you pulled your skin open or something. How is that even possible to cut that deep?   
I know the recovering process probably feels impossible. I don't know what they're having you do, other than what you said in the video, but it sounds horrible.   
Sometimes I wish that I never had auditioned. You never would have had to meet me and fall in love with me and then get hurt over and over.   
But wishes never come true, do they?  
Love,  
Louis

I flipped to the next page and I almost had to laugh. It was evidentially another letter, but the writing was so messy and nowhere near legible that I wondered if it would even be worth trying to decipher. After another few moments of squinting, I set it down and picked up the next one, wiping away the tears that dripped down my face.

 

Harry,

I am so hungover right now. I was absolutely smashed last night. I think I tried to write to you, but I can't really tell what it says, so I'm not entirely sure.   
Niall and Liam took me out. They said they wanted me to get my mind of things. Things being you, obviously.  
I don't remember what happened at all. Apparently I said and did some completely dumb things. Thought I was a cat or something, I think they said.   
I think I told some fans about you not talking to me. I very vaguely remember something like that. It was probably before I drank too much.   
My head is killing me right now and I think I'd be sick if I had eaten anything. You know how we always used to get pissed together. It's worse than any of those times, even the time that we tried to sleep on the kitchen table.   
It was nice though. I got to forget about you and how much I hate myself for a night. Even though the repercussion is awful, I think that it was worth it.  
You said in your letter that I would probably drink too much. I think you're onto something. I might see if I can ask Liam to take me out again tonight. It's just so good to be able to forget.  
I also got some fairly decent sleep for once. I think I average two or three hours per night. Sometimes less than that. Sometimes I don't sleep at all. I'm so tired all the time but I've gotten used to it, so it's okay.   
Do you remember when you couldn't sleep when we were on the X Factor because you were homesick? That's when we started sleeping in the same bed because we both slept better like that. You were my home for a little while. Maybe you still are. You're Harry and you're my home.  
I think I might still be a little bit drunk.   
I miss you so much that I can't stand it. I feel like it would have been easier if you would have died because this way, you're still here but I can't see you and it hurts.   
I just broke a lamp. It's the one that you always said that you hated but I think you secretly liked. I'm sorry. I got angry and I knocked it off the desk.   
Just another thing I've done to make you hate me.  
I want to go get drunk again.   
Love,  
Louis

I'm so tired.  
Louis

Harry, 

I think I might be drunk right now. I'm not really sure anymore. I fall asleep drunk and reach for a bottle as soon as I wake up. It's really nice to forget. I don't think that it's a bad thing.   
I went to see Eleanor. We went to a club and it was great and all but I can't look at her without seeing you. We had sex and I had to fake it. I've never had to do that before. The whole time I just kept thinking, 'this is why you tried to kill yourself', over and over. She's been wearing her ring on a different finger. I wanted to tell her not to wear it at all.  
I think she knows that we might not last. It could have been so good, too, but then you had to fall in love with me.   
There are times that I hate you so much that I want to come to your stupid rehab place or whatever and strangle you. That way we could both have what we wanted. I could get rid of you and you could die.  
I don't want to get rid of you. I don't. I didn't mean that. The only thing I want is for you to be with me right now. I miss you so much and it's making my mind stop working.   
I went for a walk when I got back from Eleanor's and I went to the London Eye. Do you remember when you and I went together? You were so excited and I thought you were being absolutely ridiculous in the way that you are.   
It kills me to remember you like that because I was the one that made you change.   
I hate this, you know. I hate you and I hate me and I hate everything. I hate that you fell in love with me and I hate that I can't love you back. I hate Eleanor because she made you hurt and I hate you because you make me hate her. I hate you because you're hurting me and I hate me because I deserve it.   
I don't know anything but hate.   
I am hate.   
Love,   
Louis 

Harry,

I guess there's something I didn't tell you in that last letter. I didn't want to. If I wrote it down, it would become real.  
I'm so stupid. I'm stupid and immature and desperate.   
I got back from the London Eye yesturday and I just needed answers. So I broke my razor and cut myself with it. I needed to know how you felt and why you liked it.   
It hurt and it bled everywhere. Why do you like that? I didn't get anything from it except a scar. It's a scab now, but I think I cut pretty deep, so it'll scar.   
It's like I lost myself for a second because I needed to be you. I needed to know how you felt because I needed to know how much more I have to hate myself.   
I just can't understand you and it's making me so desperate that I'm scaring myself.   
I kinda felt closer to you when I cut. It was just once but I'm scared I'll do it again to feel close to you again.   
Love,  
Louis

Harry,

Well.  
Liam found out. He came over and I guess he saw the cut on my wrist and figured it out. I told him that I didn't know where it was from and that I had probably scratched it when I went out with Eleanor.   
Liam obviously didn't believe me.   
I want to believe me and I think the dumb part of me thinks that if I can convince everyone else, I'll convince myself. I can't bear knowing that I cut myself.   
So, yeah. You know how it goes with me. I got mad at him for thinking that I would cut myself after what happened with you and kicked him out.   
Obviously, I did cut myself but in a way, I am insulted that Liam would think that I would do that.  
Anyways, that all happened yesturday. He brought Niall and Zayn over today.  
Long story short, it wasn't pretty.   
I got mad. I think I made Niall cry. I said something to Zayn about his smoking.   
I went out after that, got drunk.   
I'm still buzzed right now. I don't know if I'm writing legibly. Who the fuck cares if I am, anyways? You'll never care enough to read these, so why do I bother?   
I told them that you're a dick. You are. Why would you be so stupid to fall in love with me?  
This is all your fault, you know. It's not mine. Your fault. Not mine. You fell in love with me and got all depressed. You were weak. You never told me so I never knew. I could have been there for you if you told me but you didn't so it's not my fault that it seems like I was a shit friend. If anything, you were the shit friend, always pushing me away. And now you're ignoring me. You don't care that I'm back here while you're at whatever the fuck it is you are. You don't care if I'm hurting. You say you're in love with me. I say that's bullshit. If you loved me, you'd care about me more.   
So fuck you, Harry.  
Louis

Harry, 

I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said in that last letter.  
Love,   
Louis

Harry, 

Fuck you.  
Louis 

Harry,

So your mum visited me. At least she still cares about me.   
She said the boys are scared to talk to me.   
Good. I don't want to talk to them.  
Liam came after she left.  
He took all the alcohol in your place. I stole a bottle of raspberry liquor. Classy, Harry.   
Louis

Harry,

Liam thinks I need therapy. He's a twat. I don't.   
Louis

Harry,

I'm not an alcoholic, whatever they tell you. I'm not. I swear.  
Love,  
Louis

Harry, 

I'm not drunk. I'm buzzed. It's the middle of the night and I woke up screaming because I had that dream again. The one where I'm finding you and you're dying and you say it's my fault.   
I know it's my fault. You don't need to say it for me.  
I finished the raspberry liquor. It's only been two days and I went through the whole bottle. I need it, though. But I'm not an alcoholic.  
I feel like everybody's branding me as one but I'm not. I could stop if I really wanted to, but I don't. I'm not an alcoholic though.   
I think I'm depressed though. I can't get out of bed in the morning even though I never sleep. I hate myself all the time and I can't get my mind to think right. I feel like you've shaken it and it doesn't work anymore. I don't even know what I'm saying half the time.  
I think I should be scared but I'm not.   
I wanted to cut again yesturday. I missed you so much and I really needed to feel close to you again. I even picked up the razor I broke and held it to my wrist. I didn't do it though. Liam called for me.   
I think I still want to do it now. I'm lonely and sad and I need you. You know how to make me feel better. You and your stupid jokes that were so bad that they made me laugh. You and your cuddles. I want you with me right now. Why aren't you here? I need you, Harry. Please. Your room doesn't smell like you anymore and I've worn your clothes so they don't smell like you either.   
What's going on with me? I said I wasn't scared, but I think I am. I want to be in control of my life again and I'm terrified because I'm not. It's like skidding on ice when your driving and not knowing if you're going to crash or not.   
I think I'm going to crash.  
I can't breath. I'm scared. I need you. I want you to hold me and make me feel better again.   
I feel like a little kid who just wants his mummy. I don't want my mummy though. I just want you.  
You're my best friend, despite what I am to you, and I love you. I hate how we've gotten torn apart and I'm so sorry. You don't know how sorry I am.   
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry  
I need a drink so bad my throat's hurting. But I'm not an alcoholic. I can't be. You know I would never let something get that far.   
Love,  
Louis

Harry, 

I'm drunk. I'm at my place and I'm drunk. It hurts so much, Harry. I need you. I needed to drink so I went to my house. I'm not an alcoholic.   
Love,   
Louis

Harry, 

I got a tattoo for you. I can't wait to show you whenever I see you. Hopefully it's soon. I'm drunk. It's like supposed to be your cuts but obviously it's not. I love it. It's my favorite tattoo.   
But fuck you, Harry. You're such a twat. I swear you're all lovey-dovey with that Felix twat just to piss me off. I know you're doing it to piss me off. I don't like him.  
He's got a crush on you, you know. He's going to hurt you and you'll hurt him because you're still in love with me. You are, right?  
You hate me. I know you do. It's okay because I hate me too.   
Love,  
Louis

Harry,

I'm writing this on my phone because I'm at Liam's. I just need to talk to you.  
Niall kissed me.  
He was trying to prove a point, that I would have freaked out if you had told me that you were in love with me.  
I freaked out with him but I don't think I would have freaked out with you. You're you, Harry. I don't know what I would have done, but I wouldn't have freaked out.   
Zayn let me smoke but it doesn't do as much as a drink would.   
You know, as I was standing on Liam's balcony, I decided that I wouldn't mind dying.   
I don't want to kill myself, per say, as I told Niall. I just want to stop living. I want to disappear because I can't stand hurting so much.  
I understand you now. Why you did it. I want to just fall asleep and never wake up, just like you did. What I would give for that.  
Love,   
Louis

Harry I don't know what I just did but I'm so scared and it hurts and my nose is bleeding but it hurts and I'm scared I need you Harry please I need you right now I'm so scared I don't know what's happening but it hurts and I'm scared and I need you please Harry I want to die so badly I don't deserve to live I want to die I need you I don't know how to breath and I threw up and I'm so scared I don't want to be alone I'm scared I need help I need you please please please

Harry,

I can't pick one thought from another. It's so foggy. I'm at my mum's. I don't want to be here. But it's okay I guess. I like being inside my head. It's quiet here. Quiet and peaceful. I can forget when I'm all cloudy. Forget about what I did. I think I shout sometimes. At the girls and my mum. Stan too. I don't know what I say but I make them cry. I don't care. I just go back to my foggy place. I sleep all day but I don't really sleep. I haven't slept in weeks. Where are you? Why didn't you come when I needed you the most? It doesn't matter now. I don't care about anything. I don't deserve to care about everything. I'm disgusting and worthless. But that's okay. I'm angry sometimes when they try to pull me out of the clouds. I go right back when they leave me alone. He pulls me out of it, though. He talks to me about stupid stuff. He's been hired to help me but all he does is talk about footy and random shit. I hate him. I don't need to see him because he makes me leave my mind. I don't like that. He wants to know why I need my clouds. I don't reply. If I can't have you, I need to stay inside my mind where I can't get hurt.   
Love,  
Louis

Harry,

So.  
You're coming home tomorrow.   
I haven't written to you in ages. I've been focused on "getting better" and all that shit. I had to in order for them to let you live with me.   
I was so scared that you wouldn't be allowed. They said it would be a mistake for you to live with your biggest trigger. I kind of agree, but I just need to see you and I'm scared you'll keep avoiding me. They finally agreed though, with strict rules and regulations or whatever you want to call them. You know them already, so I won't bother telling you.   
My hand is shaking so badly. I'm really nervous to see you again. It's been six months. That's like twelve times the longest time we've gone without seeing each other.   
Are you different? Do you look different? I imagine it can't be that drastic. Six months doesn't alter a person's looks by that much.   
But I'm most scared about your personality. The lads say that you ask about me all the time and that you're still in love with me. I hope it still shows. I know I'll deserve it if you hurt me but I'm selfish so I'm hoping for the best.   
I don't know if it's possible, but I want to be your best friend again. At least your friend again.   
I actually cleaned my house, you know. You should be proud. I want you to be comfortable here.   
I know it would probably make more sense to live at your place because you're more familiar with it, but I can't do that. I physically cannot step foot in there. I threw up last time I did. I'll tell you why eventually, when I can bear to talk about what happened.   
Do you remember when we stayed up all night just talking? I want us to do that again. I want to rebuild our relationship. It's so selfish, I know, but it's what I want.   
It's okay if you hate me, I guess. Maybe not okay, but I understand. I'm a disgusting person who doesn't deserve to live. I get it if you think that too. I think everybody that sees me can see what I did. It's written all over my body. I can tell that they're judging me.   
I need to stop thinking about that. Stay away from those thoughts, Dr. Benson always says.  
He's my therapist, if I never told you. He's a pretty decent guy. I hated him at first, but he did get me to open up and face myself eventually. It was hard, one of the harder things I've ever had to do.   
I need to clean your room again. It has to be perfect. I know I'm not perfect. I'm trash now. I thought maybe if everything else is perfect when you get here, maybe you won't see how ruined I am.   
Love,   
Louis

 

I set the final page down. I'd had to stop twice to take a breath from my inhaler and I hadn't stopped crying the entire time.   
It was hard, seeing him lose more and more of his mind during every letter until the third and second to last letters where they didn't even make sense. It was almost like he was drugged.   
I sobbed into my hands.  
I had never had any idea just how bad he had gotten. I knew he had been drinking and he was angry but everything I had read had proved that it was a lot more than that.   
What had made him finally break? I was so curious. I felt like I had a puzzle and I was missing the most important piece. I couldn't make the picture without that piece.   
I heard soft footsteps walk past my room, turn around, and then the door opened.   
Louis took me in, biting his lip hard.  
"I thought maybe if you didn't want to talk, you might want to read those," he said quietly.   
I stared at him. It was undeniable that I had been crying.   
"I never meant for you to see them while I was writing them. Sorry if you can't read my writing in the parts where I'm drunk," he added.  
He turned around and walked out the door, closing it with a soft 'click' behind him.   
I watched him leave.  
I made my decision right then and there.   
I reached under my bed and pulled out my suitcases.


	10. Chapter 10

Louis's POV

When I came downstairs the next morning, Harry was standing in the center of our living room. A suitcase sat next to him.   
My heart rose into my throat.   
He looked up, his expression completely blank.   
"I'm moving out," he said.   
I couldn't say anything.   
"This was a horrible idea in the first place. My therapist hated the idea; I didn't think that she would allow me to live with my biggest trigger. I never wanted to. But some stupid, stupid part of me begged her. I have no fucking idea why I did it," he sighed, "She said that I could give it a few weeks and see how I felt about it then. And this is how I feel about it."   
He was holding his keys, I realized. He tossed them from hand to hand, speaking to them instead of me.   
"This is just too much too soon. I can't do this. It's not healthy for me, and quite frankly, I don't think that it's healthy for you either. We can't...it's completely unrealistic to expect you and I to try and rebuild whatever relationship we can with each other when we're each other's triggers. It's impossible for us to recover when we can't have space to breath and get away from each other. This whole thing...it was just an utopian idea. Completely unrealistic," he continued.   
I swallowed hard and stared at the floor. I refused to let him see me cry.   
"Louis, listen, it's enough stress and pressure coming out of rehab and having to be so close to you all the time is driving me somewhere that I can't go back to. We fight all the time and it's a negative environment and it's not good. This is better for both of us. We can't be together all the time. I need to get away from you and I think that you need it just as much. You're miserable like this, I know you are," he said.   
I'm more miserable without you, I wanted to say. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but my throat was dry and I made a horrible clicking sound instead.   
It almost felt like he was talking to himself. He didn't acknowledge me in the slightest as he spoke.   
"Felix'll be by later to get the rest of my stuff, I think, cause I'm going out with some people," he mumbled, "I'm living with him."   
He finally looked up at me for a split second, eyes burning a million emotions into mine before he turned back to looking at the floor.  
"I'm doing it for both of us, you know," he said quietly, "I'll get Felix to bring the keys back whenever he comes by to get the rest of my stuff later."  
He picked his suitcase up and shuffled out without another word.  
I stood staring at the spot that he had been in until a pathetic whine came loose from my throat and I dropped to my knees. I crawled over to the sofa and curled up on it.  
I couldn't bear the thought of Harry leaving me again. I was scared that it would be another six months before he spoke to me again. I couldn't let him leave me a second time but I couldn't find the strength to get up and go after him.   
I could feel a familiar fog creeping into my mind. I welcomed it. I needed to stop thinking for a while.  
I was shocked back into reality when someone shook my shoulder.  
"There you are," Felix murmured, "You're back now, yeah?"   
I focused on him. He was uncomfortably close, his eyes bright green even though it was dark.   
It was dark.   
It had been the morning when Harry left.   
He ran his fingers through my hair, a startlingly intimate gesture. He rested his hand on my forehead, like he was checking for a temperature. I shut my eyes for a moment, wanting to purr at his gentle touching.   
"There. Think you can sit up? I'll get you something to drink," he coaxed, putting his hand under my lower back as I struggled into a sitting position.   
I blinked owlishly at him. Harry had left me for him. I didn't like him. I didn't want to like him. But I couldn't say that. I couldn't say anything.   
My stomach had been carved out for this huge ball of sadness. I just felt sad. Harry had left me again. I'd let him.   
I started when Felix appeared again with a glass of water in his hand.   
"C'mon, Louis. You've had nothing to drink all day," he was saying five minutes later, coaxing me to take a sip.   
I was curled against the arm of the sofa, staring over his shoulder. I didn't want anything to drink unless it would get me drunk.   
"Look, Louis, I know he left you and I know it hurts, but c'mon, just take the water," he urged.  
A full-bodied shudder went through me. He placed the cup in my hand, expecting me to take it. I let it slip through and it fell to the floor, spilling on the carpet.   
"I thought he was stubborn," Felix muttered, getting up and disappearing into the kitchen.   
I stuck my toe into the water. It was cold. He came back with a towel and another glass. I flicked the water at him.   
He set the glass by my foot and sat down next to me, carefully keeping distance between us.   
"Louis...you've got to understand how triggering you are for him. I don't know if you've noticed, but he's not as strong as he was before he started living with you. He's wearing rubber bands and the next step after that is to start cutting again. It's hurting him to hurt you and it's hurting him to be so close to you. He's doing it because he knows that if he kept staying with you, bad things would inevitably happen," Felix sighed.  
"You're saying that because you're in love with him," I croaked, "You win. You get him."  
He shook his head.   
"His happiness is the most important thing to me. I don't care if he doesn't feel the same way as long as he's happy. It may sound crazy to you, but I swear it's true," he insisted.   
I didn't reply.   
"He was so upset last night after he read the letters you wrote him. He didn't tell me anything you said but he was in tears. He just kept repeating 'I can't believe I did that to him, I can't believe I did that to him' over and over. He thinks that he gives the both of you some space away from each other, you'll both have time to heal because he knows you need to heal too, not just him," Felix explained.   
"I don't need to heal. I'm fine," I said, not even bothering to sound convincing.  
"You're forgetting that I know what happened," he said.   
I shivered again.   
"You always have to bring that up, don't you?" I hissed.   
"Does he know?" he asked.  
I shook my head.   
"Are you ever going to tell him?"   
I shook my head again.  
"Why?"  
I whirled towards him, knocking the second glass of water over.  
"Why does it fucking matter to you? He doesn't care, okay? He's told me himself! If he doesn't care, then he doesn't need to know," I spat.   
"He cares, Louis. He just wants you to think he doesn't," Felix said, eyeing the growing puddle on the floor.   
"Harry wouldn't lie to me," I said.   
We both heard the uncertainty in my voice.   
"Maybe he wouldn't have lied to you before. But if he's trying to protect himself, he will now," Felix said.   
"He wouldn't lie to me," I insisted, "Just go get his stuff and leave."  
He snorted quietly.  
"His stuff is already at my house, Louis. He sent me here to check on you," he said.   
"Tell him I'm fine. I'm happier without him," I snarled.   
"You've not been happy in ages," Felix said, "Now will you drink and eat something? You're going to dehydrate yourself."  
I rolled my eyes at him.   
"If I do, will you leave?" I hissed.   
"Yes," he said.  
I glared at him a moment more before getting up and storming towards the kitchen. I downed a glass of water and yanked open a bag of crisps.   
"Now leave," I spat.   
He stared at me and nodded.   
"He just wants to make sure you're okay. He still loves you," he murmured.   
"Get out!" I snarled, making to push him out if I had to.   
"Alright," he said.  
He turned around and shuffled out, the door clicking shut behind him.  
The second that I heard the door close, I sunk down with my back against the table and burst into tears. I'd been holding them back since Felix had pulled me out of whatever head space I had been in and they finally spilled over.   
I huddled on the floor and shook.   
I needed Harry. As much as he hurt me, he kept me grounded and sane. I couldn't live alone again. I was afraid of what I would do to myself. Harry had never looked after me, but his presence had been enough.   
I needed him like a child needs a nightlight. I was scared to live without him. I'd grown used to him being with me after just a few short weeks.   
I could feel my thoughts getting foggy as my mind retreated to where it would be safe. I pushed the thick, grey tendrils away and stood up. I stumbled, catching myself on the counter with a sob.   
I felt so overwhelmingly sad and abandoned. Harry had abandoned me. Maybe it was better for him, but it wasn't better for me.

Harry's POV 

I was laying on Felix's bed, waiting for him to come back. Stepping out of Louis' house was like getting a breath of fresh air after inhaling nothing but smoke. I knew that I had made the right choice.  
But at the same time, the look on his face made me want to go back to him. He'd looked like a puppy that I had just kicked, all disappointed and sad. I'd expected him to say something, to protest, but he never had.   
Felix came into his room and flopped down next to me.  
"How is he?" I asked immediatly.   
"He was really out of it when I first got there. He wouldn't acknowledge that I was there and when I tried to get him to drink something, he just let it spill," he sighed, "Then eventually he got back to his moody self."  
"Oh," I said quietly.   
"He's upset, Harry. He's convinced you don't care about him," he said.  
"I told him that last night," I muttered, "Didn't think he would believe me though. He usually doesn't."  
"If you catch him in a fragile enough mind frame, then he'll believe anything you say. Christ, he thinks the world of you Harry, and you know I don't approve of you intentionally hurting him. It's not going to end well for either of you. Louis is more sensitive than you think," Felix snapped.   
I sighed and curled closer to Felix. I wondered what it would feel like if he was smaller, curvier.  
"What all did he tell you in those letters?" he asked.  
I shrugged.   
"Most of what I already knew, really. It's just harder 'cause it's from his point of view, not one of the lad's. There were a few at the end that were really confusing and jumbled, but I don't know," I said.  
"Mmm. So he didn't say anything about it," Felix mused.   
"About what?" I asked.  
"I can't tell you that. Look, Harry, he doesn't want to tell you anything because he thinks you don't care. If you told him that you do still care about him, he'd open up to you," Felix said.  
"I wish I didn't care about him," I muttered.  
"But you do," Felix said.   
"Yeah," I agreed, "I don't know what to do. You know I can't get close to him."  
"You don't have to get close to him. You can be cordial acquaintances. You don't know how much you're hurting him, picking on him all the time," Felix said.  
"You're not the one who has to hear him cry at night because of you," I retorted.   
He sighed.   
"What am I going to do with you, popstar?"   
Two days later and I was barreling into the interview late. Louis was off to the side, staring at a wall and the others were crowded around Niall's phone.  
"Hey, Harry!" Liam greeted, absorbed by whatever they were looking at.  
Louis looked up, his eyes narrowing at me before he turned back to the wall.   
Okay. He was mad.  
The interview went well, mainly focused on me. Louis said about two words the entire time, usually making noncommittal grunts to reply to something.   
When it was over, he stormed outside and left without another word.  
"You guys have a fight or something? He's pissier than usual today," Niall commented.  
"I moved out," I said, scratching my neck awkwardly.   
"That would explain that," he said, nodding, "Any particular reason?"  
"It just wasn't working out for me," I sighed, "He's pissed and upset, but I think it was the right decision. For me, at least."  
Niall nodded. Liam and Zayn had apparently tuned in as well.   
"Yeah. He was in a terrible mood today," Zayn commented.   
Liam frowned.   
"I'm worried about him living by himself again, though. We all saw how that ended last time," he said.   
They all exchanged glances, carefully avoiding looking at me. It made me rather uncomfortable.   
"I think it'll be better now, now that he's not going to be by himself for weeks at a time, like he was before," Zayn said slowly.   
"Still. If Louis has an hour to think by himself, it's dangerous," Liam argued.   
"I hate to interrupt, but living with him was dangerous for me," I said.   
"Yeah. I'm not saying you should live with him, but. I don't know. Nobody knows what Louis is feeling and that's the bad thing. He can convince you he's fine, but then the next thing you know, he's...definetely not fine," Liam muttered. 

Louis's POV

I slammed the door to my house and kicked it for good measure. I swallowed back the growing ball of darkness.   
Over the two days since Harry had moved out, I hadn't done anything. I stayed in bed most of the time, occasionally creeping into his old bedroom and hiding under his covers.   
I cried a lot, the feeling of abandonment washing over me until it was the only thing I could feel.   
I broke a lot. Glass after plate was thrown across the room to meet its demise against the floor or wall. I'd be crying one moment and screaming the next, hating Harry with every part of my body.   
It was those times that scared me, when I couldn't see through the red and black clouding my visiton and I imagined the walls that I hit were Harry.   
I found myself on my knees, gasping for breath as I choked on a sob. I didn't want to hurt Harry, of course I didn't. But some dark part in the back of my mind wanted to make him pay for every time he had hurt me.   
The rational side of me knew that there wasn't even much to be angry about. He did everything to protect himself and in the end, his safety mattered most to me.   
But there were times where I would be reduced to shaking on the ground, fighting this dark, dark part of my mind.  
I'd never healed from Ben. I'd shoved it to the side, passing it off as being healed. I knew that I had moutains of emotions that were fighting to break through the half-assed barrier I'd built. Harry was a distraction. I used my hurt from him to push Ben further and further beneath the surface but it wouldn't last forever. It couldn't last forever; I wasn't strong enough. The longer I ignored it, the bigger it got, the blacker it got.   
I sat against the door, digging my palms into my eyes.   
Disgusting, my mind whispered, you're disgusting  
Shut up, I thought back, I know I'm disgusting I know that already  
A familiar, phantom ache started in the small of my back and traveled up to the side of my face.   
Look where you let him touch you, my mind taunted, it burns doesn't it  
I bit down on the back of my hand.   
Harry living with me had been more for me than anything. I couldn't handle living alone. I was scared of what the silence of my house would say to me.   
My head ached, tired of fighting against itself.   
At the interview, I'd had to pinch myself to keep from collapsing at Harry's feet and clinging onto his legs, begging and groveling for him to come back to me.   
I needed him. I didn't care if he hurt me or confused me until my mind was in knots trying to figure him out. I needed him with me even if he hated me. I didn't care.   
Harry was my source of sanity. He jerked me back to reality without realizing it. He was like a slap to the face, his words cold water waking me up.   
I knew that the old Harry had to be inside of him somewhere, even if the old Louis in me was long gone. The old Louis didn't have to wage war with his own mind, torn between destruction and depression. He would have laughed it off and gone off to cuddle with Harry.   
I was so dependant on Harry to be there for me. Six months without him had shoved me off a cliff and I'd hit the bottom hard. I'd taken him for granted, but I needed him.  
I stood on shaky legs and stumbled upstairs and into his old room. Old room. I hated thinking about it like that. I curled up in his covers and shook. I buried my face in the pillows.   
Pathetic little thing, my mind purred, you need your toy to be happy little boy  
"Not my toy," I muttered out loud, "He's my Harry."  
You used him like a toy, it taunted, and now the tides have turned how does that feel   
I yanked on my hair and groaned into the fabric. How sane was I, anyways? I was having conversations with myself. I bit my lip, blinking back more tears. I was so afraid of myself. Was I bipolar? Multiple personalities? Losing my sanity? I had to snort at myself. Of lost my sanity long ago, that much was obvious. I'd drunk it away. I'd cut it out of myself. Ben had fucked it right of of me.   
I dug my phone out of my pocket and hit my new number one on speed dial. Dr. Benson. I called him daily, in the midst of hyperventilating or struggling to stop destroying my house instead of Harry.   
I felt like I was burdening him, but he knew everything. He was the only one that did. He'd given me his personal phone number so I wouldn't have to go through his secretary every time.   
"Hello, Louis. How are you today?" he said immediatly upon picking up.  
I'd gotten him when he wasn't in another appointment. I usually had to wait.   
"I don't know. I can't decide. It keeps going back in forth between sad and dark," I whispered even though there was nobody else with me, "I'm scared. I'm thinking too much."  
"You know what I told you to do," he said.  
"Turn on music as loud as it will go until I can't think anymore," I replied.   
"It usually works, correct?" he asked.  
"Yeah. Not when Harry was here, but when I'm by myself. I don't think I can live alone," I admitted.   
"Have you talked to one of your friends about it? I'm sure they would let you stay with them," he said.  
"I'm scared of that too. I don't want them seeing me when I can't control myself," I said.  
"Naturally. But Louis, if you think it's dangerous for you to be by yourself, it's better to be safe than sorry," Dr. Benson said.   
"I know. But what if I hurt them? I'm scared of that. I've just...it's mainly just been these past few days without Harry, I'll get violent all of a sudden and I don't know why. Like it's happened before when Harry was here, I've told about that, but I managed to keep it away from him. Now, though, it's been getting worse," I muttered.   
"Louis, I think I might prescribe you something to help you with that if you really think it's going to start becoming dangerous to you and other people. It would help control your mood swings, for lack of a better word, and be an anti-depressant as well," he said.  
"I think...I think maybe I'd like that," I said, "I think it could be considered mood swings. I'll be sad one second and really violent the next. That's been the past two days. Before that, I'd go from being okay to just being overwhelmingly sad for no reason. And sometimes I'd get angry," I said.   
"Alright. I'll write a prescription for you as soon as I can. I have to go, if that's alright. My next appointment is going to begin soon," he said.  
"Okay. Um. I'll talk to you soon, then," I mumbled.  
"Louis, if you need me longer...," he said.  
"No. No. It's okay, you can go. I don't want to keep you from anything," I assured him, "I think I'll take a nap of something."  
"Alright. Goodbye, Louis," he said.  
"Goodbye," I muttered.   
As soon as I hung up, the silence closed in on me again and choked me. I burst into tears.   
I was so out of control. I couldn't get a grasp on myself. Control was important to me, it was fairly obvious just observing my personality. Now, my life and mind were flying out of my hands and I was paralyzed with fear.   
I sniffled and pulled Harry's pillow- old pillow to my chest. I rested my chin on it and tried to fall asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Louis's POV

A week later and we were traveling. It meant having to all but smother myself with a pillow when I cried at night to keep from screaming. I couldn't just go around breaking things like I could in my house.  
I lost control one night and took a painting off the wall and threw it across the room. It was a stupid painting. It was cruede flowers in a boring vase and it made me irrationally angry, so I threw it. It was louder than I anticipated. I had to open the door for Zayn, whose room was next to mine.   
"You okay? I heard some kind of crash?" he asked.   
I let him in.  
"Kind of knocked down a painting," I said, shrugging and smiling sheepishly.   
He studied me carefully, gauging whether or not to accept the lie.   
Finally, after a minute of holding my breath, he nodded.   
"Right. So, wanna do something tonight? You always stay here by yourself; it's got to be boring," he said.  
I made a face. He noticed.  
"Let me correct myself. You shouldn't always stay here by yourself because its not got for you, so you're going to spend tonight with me," Zayn said.   
I glared at him.   
"What if I want to be by myself?" I snapped.  
"Suck it up," he said simply, "You don't do well when you have to be by yourself so much."  
I sighed and sat down, flopping onto my back.   
"What're we supposed to do? I can't go out, God forbid I get drunk like a normal person my age," I grumbled.  
"Louis, there are other options other than getting smashed," Zayn drawled, sitting down next to me, "When was the last time you and I just hung out? Or the last time you hung out with any of us, really."  
"The worst night of my life," I grumbled, turning over to bury my face in my pillow, "Look, I'm not up for anything. Just go away."  
"Not a chance," Zayn said.  
He kicked his feet up onto the bed.   
We spent the next two hours watching the news. He did, at least. I lay on my side and pretended to sleep. He had to have known that I wasn't. I was too tense. I was struggling to control the urge to break down in front of him. He would comfort me and try to make me feel better, I knew. That's what I didn't want. I wanted to be punished and beaten down until I had paid the price my selfishness had cost and my guilt was gone.   
Zayn stayed the entire night. For somebody so perceptive, he didn't realize how uncomfortable I was with him pressed close to me. I didn't sleep. I listened to his slow, even breathing for seven hours until we had to get up. I had to remind myself that it was Zayn next to me, one of my best mates, and not Ben.   
At one point when the strain became too much, I cautiously crept out of bed and over to the mini-fridge. It was an upperclass hotel, so they had the fridges stocked as a temptation for guests to have to pay for the contents they ate or drank. I pulled it open and silently looked around in it for what I wanted. Three tiny bottles of liquor were arranged in a row on one of the shelves. I gasped with relief and pulled all three out.   
I scampered to the toilet with my prizes and sat on the edge of the tub. I downed all three quickly before throwing them out and covering them up with toilet paper.  
I snuck back into the bed, the chaos in my head mildly subdued and listened to Zayn's breathing for another few hours.   
In the morning, I was still a little buzzed when Zayn rolled out of the bed, but it was nothing that I couldn't play off.   
"Sleep at all, Lou?" he slurred as he stood up and scratched at his stomach.  
"No," I replied, "You expect me to sleep when you're all but on top of me?"   
Zayn's morning brain took a few moments, but then his eyes widened.  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Louis. I didn't realize," he said weakly, "You should have told me."  
I gave him a look and tugged a shirt over my head. I didn't know if it was clean or dirty and I didn't care.   
He went to the toilet and came back out after a few minutes.   
"Louis...we were talking, the lads and I, and we think you should move in with one of us," he said carefully.   
I pulled on some trousers without acknowledging him.   
"We worry about you when you're by yourself. You...think too much and then it gets to you and then you do something that you'll regret. You're kinda dangerous to yourself, Louis, and you need somebody to be with you," he continued.   
I looked into the mirror and ran my hands through greasy hair. I'd heard Zayn's speech before and from several people. I didn't even pretend to listen.   
"Whatever...whatever happened with Harry, it's obvious that you're starting to go back to wherever it was you were before he came back. And sure, you weren't happy when you lived with him 'cause he picked on you all the time, but at least you weren't alone. Louis, can you at least fucking look at me?" he snapped.  
I rolled my eyes and turning and fixing him with a withering look.   
"What makes you think living with somebody will help? You can't stop what goes on in my mind," I sighed irritably.  
"We could stop you from doing anything to physically hurt yourself. Don't even try and give me that bullshit about 'accidentally' knocking that painting down," Zayn barked.  
"So I threw it. There. I don't care. It was a shitty painting anyways," I said.  
I reached behind me and slid the tiny plastic bag into my pocket and kept the second in my hand without Zayn noticing.  
"Louis, that's not the point," he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.  
"There isn't a point because it doesn't fucking matter to me. I'm fine, okay? I don't need a fucking babysitter. I'm a big boy. I'm fine," I hissed.  
"Louis, you say that all that time but I don't think I've ever once believed you," Zayn said.   
I marched past him, curling my hand tighter around the plastic bag.   
I stormed into Niall's room after he opened the door. Liam and Harry were already waiting inside.  
Zayn followed after me. I shoved the bag in my pocket with the other one.   
"What're we doing today?" I asked, leaning back against the wall.   
The room had the same flower painting as mine. I bit down on my cheek as sudden anger flared up in my chest.   
They were weird, the mood swings. I was never happy, persay, but I'd be relatively stable one moment, lashing out and destroying things the next, and then crying over fifteen minutes later.   
I hated them and I didn't understand them. Most of the time I stayed inexplicably sad. I'd have to bite my lip as hard as I could in public to keep from screaming or pretend to sneeze in order to be able to pass off my teary eyes.   
"-ay, Lou."  
I blinked back into reality.  
"Hmm?" I asked.  
Liam snorted and then said, "I said, we don't have anything today, Lou. It's just an off day."  
"Why are we all gathered here, then?" I asked.  
He eyed me warily.   
"We all decided we'd go out for breakfast today? You were there, Louis; you said yes too," he said.  
I grimaced. I wasn't hungry. I usually wasn't.   
"I don't know, I'm not feeling very well," I muttered, looking down and trying my hardest to look ill.  
"I don't care if you get sick; you're coming with us," Zayn growled.   
I dug my nails into my wrist to keep from lunging at him.   
"What if I don't want to," I hissed.  
"We're going to make you," he snapped, "Do something with us for once instead of fucking ruining yourself!"   
I swallowed hard. Zayn was my friend. I didn't need to hurt him. But a corner of my mind wanted to pin him against the wall and choke him.   
I gritted my teeth.   
"Fine. Whatever," I growled.   
He cautiously stepped away from me, seeing the shift in my demeanor.   
"Great. Um. So, we're gonna go, then?" Niall squeaked, "Now?"  
Liam nodded, not taking his eyes off of me.   
Harry hadn't so much as moved the entire time. He simply thumbed at his phone, ignoring all of us.   
"Harry, you ready?" Niall asked.  
Harry lifted his head, completely expressionless.   
"Hmm? Yeah," Harry mumbled.   
He stood, stretching briefly, then, "What're we getting?"   
"Dunno. We could just eat whatever breakfast they serve here," Liam said.   
"I don't really fancy getting chased after paps anyways," Zayn said.   
"Alright. Eating here, it is. Or should we be really lazy and get room service?" Niall asked.   
"That's enticing," Liam agreed.   
"I vote for staying in here," Zayn said.  
So we ended up staying in. 

Liam's POV

I watched as Louis poked at his food. It was actually fairly good food but he didn't appear to want it.   
He was quiet, keeping his eyes down and not speaking to anybody.   
Every now and then Harry would glance over at him, eyebrows crinkling together. It was painfully obvious how much he still cared about Louis, how much he still loved Louis. Everybody but Louis could see that. But Harry had attacked his weakest point when Louis was already vulnerable and twisted his mind until he believed Harry's lies.   
"How's your food, Louis?" I asked.  
He looked up, eyes dull.   
"Fine," he mumbled, before looking back down.   
I nodded even though I knew he wasn't looking at me anymore.  
I wanted to talk to the other lads about him. We already did talk about him a lot but it was incredibly difficult to figure him out.   
I knew that Harry moving out had been a hard blow for Louis to take but there was something more to it. His attitude had shifted. We were used to dealing with Louis snapping at us but this was different. There were times that he would get this dark, dangerous look and it would make me worry about his and our safety.   
Zayn had texted me about Louis apparently breaking a painting in his room. He'd also found three tiny bottles when he had used the toilet in the morning. He had told me that it was obvious that Louis had tried to hide them but he hadn't done a good job of it.   
I was really worried.   
When Louis wasn't angry, he was quiet and had this dead, detached expression like he had completely given up.  
It was more than Harry ignoring him for six months now. It was more than Ben. It was just like how Harry's depression and cutting had gone far past his feelings for Louis.   
But the wild mood swings and how detached Louis was was different than Harry.  
Harry was always firmly there. He was in a world of pain but it was sharp enough to keep him grounded.   
I knew that Louis was different in that aspect. He got lost inside his mind. He floated away from reality. I wasn't sure where he went but he would become distant and his speech would slur if I tried to talk to him.   
I wanted to ask the boys if they thought he might need something more than his therapist back in Doncaster. I knew that he still spoke to him but it didn't appear to be doing much. Louis was tumbling head over heels down a hill and I didn't want to know what would happen when he reached the cliff.   
I watched him tentatively take a bite and chew. He didn't swallow it for a moment. He reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a small white pill.   
Drugs.  
That explained a whole lot. How distant he would get and the way he slurred even though he wasn't drunk. He couldn't drink, so he had turned to drugs.  
"Louis fucking Tomlinson," I spat.  
He looked up, swallowing both the pill and the food.  
"What did you just take?" I asked.   
Louis blinked at me, clearly confused.  
"What?" he asked.  
"That white pill. What was that?" I hissed.  
Out of the corner of my eye, Niall, Zayn, and Harry collectively tensed.   
"Oh. It wasn't anything," he muttered.   
"So you're a fucking drug addict now, is that it? You went from alcohol to drugs?" I snarled.  
Louis stood, his eyes darkening in the dangerous way.   
"So what is it? Cocaine? Heroin? LSD?" I demanded.   
He gritted his teeth.  
"It wasn't any of those because it wasn't anything!" he spat.  
I shot my hand forwards and into his pocket before he could stop me. I pulled out a small plastic bag, no longer than an inch, with two more pills in it. Another bag fell to the floor with only one pill inside.   
"What the hell are these then? I can't believe you, Louis. How stupid can you be?" I yelled.  
Niall crept forwards and picked up the bag that fell. He studied the pill with wide eyes.  
Louis shut his eyes and breathed out slowly, albeit shakily.   
"Why don't you just trust me?" he growled, "I'm not doing anything bad."  
"Don't try to lie, Louis. It's pretty obvious," Zayn said slowly.   
Harry just blinked at all of us, completely still.   
Louis licked his lips and fumbled for words.   
"They're...they're not like...addictive stuff," he mumbled.  
"Bullshit," I spat.  
His eyes snapped up to mine and he bared his teeth.  
"Will you let me finish before you fucking accuse me?" he hissed.  
I sighed and nodded.  
"They're a prescription, okay? Take two twice a day, once in the morning, once in the evening. Take with food. Dr. Benson prescribed them to me to help control my mood swings and as an anti-depressant. He said they'll take about two weeks to start working. Do you want to know any more or do you want to accuse me of something else before getting to know the story?" he spat.   
I swallowed and looked away guiltily. Niall quietly handed the baggy back to Louis and I did the same with mine.   
He glared at all of us except for Harry. He skipped over him as if Harry wasn't there.  
"I'm going back to my room and I swear to God if you don't leave me alone...," he growled.   
He stormed out of the room, leaving his food and slamming the door behind him.   
It was quiet for a moment as we all shifted guiltily and thought about what had happened.   
"Anybody else worry about him possessing pills?" Zayn asked quietly.   
"He's losing control of himself. He wants to take control again," Harry murmured.  
When we all stared at him, he shrugged.   
"You're forgetting I lived with him. I heard him talking to what's-his-face, his therapist," he said, "He always talked about how out of control he felt, like all these things were happening to him and he just had to sit back and take it. You know how Louis likes to be in control of things. It's freaking him out not to be able to control himself of all things."  
"You never helped him any," Zayn said accusingly.   
"I'm sorry, but I've learned to put myself first, okay? Unless you want me to start cutting again," Harry growled.   
"No, no, we don't," Niall said quickly, "S'just you don't have to be so mean to Louis, that's all."  
Harry sighed.  
"You're not the first person to have told me that. And you're not the last person," he muttered.  
"I just feel like there's no out to this. There's no ending. Every day I'm so stressed and worried about you and Louis and he's obviously not getting better. I just want everything bad to end," Niall blurted.   
Zany put his hand on Niall's shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly.   
"Sorry for fucking up your happiness, then," Harry growled before getting up and leaving.   
I sighed as he slammed the door, identical to Louis's exit.   
"Those two are so similar," Zayn muttered, echoing my thoughts.   
I nodded.   
"I was wondering if you lads think we should get Louis into some kind of rehab facility. Not for six months, obviously, but long enough for him to recover from whatever he's got to recover from," I said.  
"He never would," Zayn said, "He's still not admitted that he's an alcoholic. He's not going to go to rehab."  
"We can force him," Niall mused, "He really is becoming a danger to himself and others."  
"Plus his whole drinking thing last night," Zayn sighed.  
"What drinking thing? Did he go out again?" Niall asked.  
"No. He got into the fridge and found some kind of alcohol in the middle of the night. It was kinda my fault though. I stayed over and slept in his bed. I should have known he wouldn't be comfortable with that," Zayn explained.   
"He could have moved. There's couches in the room," I pointed out.   
Zayn shrugged.  
"I do feel bad about earlier, thinking he was doing drugs. But what else was I supposed to think? He never said anything about a prescription," I said.  
"He's probably embarrassed. Did you see how red his face got when he talked about it?" Niall pointed out, "He doesn't like admitting that he needs help."  
I hummed in agreement.   
"I'm kinda proud that he is taking medication though, even if I am a little worried that he might do something dumb with it," Zayn said.  
"Yeah. But like Harry said, Louis just wants control over his own life. I don't think he'll abuse the medication because that's just losing control even more," Niall said.   
"But what's the difference between drugs and alcohol?" Zayn argued, "Who's to say he thinks it's okay to get drunk but not okay to get high? He's smoked before."  
"He's smart enough to stay away from the hard stuff, I hope," I said, "I guess we'll just have to watch him and trust him."  
"That's what we did with Harry and he nearly killed himself," Zayn argued.   
"Louis isn't Harry," I said.  
"That's what I'm afraid of," Zayn muttered.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry's POV

I watched as Louis tipped back his head and swallowed the second pill of the evening. He blinked and sighed once it was down.   
He was curled on a chair in my hotel room, having been forced out of his own room. A half-eaten biscuit sat on his leg.   
We were watching some show that I wasn't paying attention to. I was paying attention to Louis.   
The other lads forced us to hang out with them every night. I didn't really care. Louis, however, put up a fight. He hissed and snarled when they tried to talk to him. When we got food, he ate two or three bites before setting it aside.   
He was rapidly falling apart. We'd had a hotel with thinner walls one night and I'd gotten the room next to his. Our beds were right against the same wall and I was forced to listen to him cry for two and a half hours. It wasn't even like he was sad; it sounded tortured, like somebody was beating him. He was crying in a way that I had never heard.   
Louis slouched down further into the armchair and didn't appear to notice the biscuit fall off his leg and on to the carpet.   
His face was thinner, his hair dull and limp around it. He was pale and his eyes were constantly watering from how dry and tired they were. I could see how getting more thin by the day.   
Frankly, he looked horrible.   
And yet, somehow, I still thought he was beautiful. Even though his eyes weren't the same shocking blue I had fallen in love with, I loved the exhausted grey they had become just as much.   
The night that I had had to listen to him cry, I had bit down on the back of my hand until my teeth broke the skin and I bled to keep from calling to him.   
I heard the others talk about him, how he took longer and longer to register people talking to him. How he was lashing out for no reason. How he was falling into a whirlwind depression completely different from mine. How he was becoming more than they could figure out.   
They left something out, something that had happened to him, whenever they talked about him in front of me. They said whenever it happened, it started with it, the last time he acted like this was right after it.  
From all the context clues I had gathered, I still couldn't figure out what it was. It was really pissing me off.   
I glanced back over to Louis. His eyes were slipping shut. He'd sigh and relax for a moment before jerking back awake. It was increadibly endearing. His head nodded forwards before he tensed and sat up.   
There was a moment where I could all but hear him think 'fuck it' as he shifted to lean his head back against the armchair and close his eyes.   
Within a few minutes, he was breathing steadily, cracked lips parted.   
"Would you look at that. He's actually sleeping," Zayn commented dryly.   
Liam and Niall looked over.   
"Probably the only time he'll sleep for the next few days," Niall said sadly.   
"It's actually rather impressive that he can keep himself going. He doesn't eat or drink much and who knows how much sleep he gets, but he still gets up every morning and deals with it," Liam said.  
"That's 'cause he's running on auto-pilot," Zayn replied.   
"Don't wake him up, lads. Lets not talk about him when he's right there," Niall said.   
They nodded.   
An hour or so later, they all got up to leave. I glanced unsurely at Louis.  
"I swear to God, Styles, if you wake him up...," Liam growled, "Just let him stay."  
I nodded reluctantly.   
As soon as they left, I became hyper-aware of Louis. I could hear the soft whistle of his breathing and there was the faint smell of something that was pure Louis in the air.   
I sat on the edge of my bed and shamelessly stared at him. His eyelashes fanned across the purple bags under his eyes. His small hand twitched slightly. He shifted and crossed his arms.   
I froze, praying that he didn't wake up.   
He didn't.   
He sighed and made an absolutely adorable little noise.   
I thought about all the times I had carried him to bed when he had fallen asleep on a sofa or some other obscure place. He'd fallen asleep on our floor several times and once in the bath after a long few days.   
He just fit in my arms perfectly. We were like puzzle pieces. My neck fit his head exactly when he nuzzled into it and there was nothing better than the way my arms wrapped around his back. The way he would press close to my chest when we slept in the same bed and his hair would tickle my face.   
And when he sleeptalked. God, he couldn't get more cute. He would slur the most irrational things. Most of the times I wouldn't be able to understand what he said, but when I did, I would have to leave the room so I could laugh.   
That was when he still let us sleep in the same bed, in the same room.   
I slowly got to my feet and crept across the room. I needed to shower and if Louis woke up and left while I wasn't in the room, that would be better.   
And maybe I gave into the teenaged side of my brain and allowed myself to think about how pretty and fit he was as hot water pelted against my back. And maybe I had to bite down on my lip until it bled to keep from making any noise as I came and my knees threatened to buckle.   
I got out of the shower pleasantly hazy and as relaxed as I could be with Louis in my room.   
I only had pants on and was digging around in my suitcase when I heard Louis's soft, "Harry?"   
I stood and turned around. He was sitting up and rubbing at one of his eyes.   
"Where's everyone?" he muttered.  
"They left like an hour ago. I didn't want to wake you up," I said quietly.   
Louis nodded. He seemed wary and shy.  
"Thank you," he replied.   
I stood, watching him and waiting for his next move. He studied the carpet, seeming fascinated by a fading blue stain. He pulled his lip between his teeth and bit at it.   
I sighed and sat down on my bed, facing him.   
"They're worried about you, you know," I said.   
Louis shrugged.   
"I think I'd be worried too if I could make my mind shut up for a second," he replied, "Can hardly hear myself think."   
"How are you? Really," I asked.   
Louis sighed and leaned back against the armchair and crossed his arms. A defensive posture.   
"I really don't know why you're acting like you care," he mumbled.   
"Louis," I sighed.  
I flopped my hands around uselessly, trying to tell him things that I couldn't say.   
"You make it so difficult to stop loving you," I finally whispered, hoping that he wouldn't understand.   
He snorted, his expression turning bitter.   
"There's nothing to love in me anymore. Love doesn't even exist," he spat.   
I stared at him in surprise. This was coming from somebody who had always been a hopeless romantic.   
"I wish it didn't," I said.   
"It doesn't. You're fucking blind if you think that it does. Love is just a concept that people dream about to make life seem a little less fucked up than it really is," he snarled, standing up.   
Louis bent down and picked up the biscuit from the ground. He turned it over in his hands, studying it. Then he abruptly pivoted and threw it across the room. It ricocheted off the wall and fell to the floor.   
I stepped back a foot.   
"He just seems angry in a differet sort of way sometimes," Liam had said, "You know. When it seems like he might really hurt somebody."   
I knew exactly what Liam had been talking about.  
Sure, it was only a biscuit. But what next? My head? Louis and I weren't on good terms as it was. Physically hurting each other would damage things further.   
"Fucking-" he hissed, cutting himself off as he brought a hand up and yanked on his hair.   
It seemed to have a weird, calming effect on him. He buried his face in his hands and breathed jerkily, but the sudden violent anger was gone.   
"Louis-" I started.   
Louis tensed and lifted his head. His face darkened again.   
"What, you want to preach about love? Love nearly killed you. If love existed, I wouldn't have-" he cut himself off again.  
He squeezed his eyes shut and his mouth tightened into a thin, hard line.   
"You wouldn't have...?" I prompted.   
"Oh, what do you fucking care?" Louis spat.  
He jerked the handle of the door, growling angrily when his hand slipped off of it. When he really did open it, he slammed it closed hard enough that half the hotel probably heard.   
I noticed that he had forgotten his phone. It was wedged in the creases of the armchair.   
I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. Curiosity made me try to enter his password.   
I sucked in a breath as I got it right. He'd never changed it, in all the time since I'd jokingly set it.   
louislovesharry  
He'd never changed it from that. It made me smile and want to cry at the same time.   
He didn't love me anymore in any way. He had it set in his mind that I didn't care about him and he probably didn't care about me.   
I waited for him to come back for his phone.   
Part of me waited for him to come back for me.   
He didn't come back for either. 

Louis's POV

I made my way back to my room, breathless and dizzy. Christ, if anybody had recognized me or taken pictures I would be in a world of trouble.   
The aftertaste of the hotel bar's cheap vodka was bitter on the back of my tongue and I felt sick.   
But it wasn't like I had gotten completely sloshed. It was just enough to mute the chaos in my mind and replace it with a comfortable buzz.   
It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't something I was going tell anybody that I had done, but everybody else was so dramatic anyways.   
Yeah, I wasn't supposed to drink, especially with the prescription medication, but I felt better. That's what mattered, me feeling better.   
I fumbled with my room key and finally unlocked the door after several tries.   
I was mildly surprised that I hadn't been forced to hang out with everyone else in one of their rooms.   
I threw my key on the bed and headed to the shower. My hair was disgusting and I seriously needed to wash it.   
When I got out, I wasn't all that surprised to see Niall sitting on my bed, patiently waiting. We always swapped around our extra keys. He had apparently gotten ahold of mine.   
"Hi," I sighed, digging around in my suitcase for something to put on other than my towel, "You got chosen to be my babysitter tonight, then?"   
Niall sighed.   
"Is it a crime to want to spend time with you?" he asked, "I just wanted to see you."  
I raised my eyebrows at him as I slipped on a pair of sweats. I chucked the towel somewhere and went to sit on the edge of the bed, carefully arranging myself to be as far away from him as possible.  
"Why would you want to spend time with me? You know I'm not a pleasant person to be around," I snorted.   
"You were once," he said, "Give it a little time and you will be again."  
"You seem pretty sure of that," I said.  
"I am," Niall agreed, giving me a crooked smile.   
I shook my head bemusedly.   
"C'mon, there's probably something shitty on the telly that we can make fun of," Niall said, grabbing the remote.   
I laid down, supporting myself on my elbows. I could feel the heat from Niall's body a few inches away from my own. I couldn't tell if it was comforting or if it would burn me if I got any closer. I didn't test it out.   
We ended up watching some reality show, "How's this shit reality? It's so scripted, Lou!" and occasionally poked fun at the people on it.   
It felt normal and it was making me wary.   
I was trying not to laugh at an exceptionally clever dig Niall had made when he stopped and stared at me.   
"What?" I asked.  
He deflated.  
"I can smell the alcohol on your breath, Louis," he said sadly.   
I looked away. I felt peculiarly ashamed. He couldn't understand, I reminded myself, I need to drink.   
"How'd you get it?" he asked.   
"Hotel bar," I said before I could think of a lie.   
I didn't bother trying to deny it. He would know that I was lying.   
Niall sighed.   
"Why're you doing this to yourself, Louis? You were doing so well," he said.   
I sat up, running my hand through my wet hair.   
"I'm so out of control," I whispered, "I need to drink so my mind will shut up for once. I don't feel so angry. I just feel fuzzy and it's nice. I can control that."  
"I thought you were taking medicine," Niall said.   
"I am. It takes a few weeks to do anything and I don't have a few weeks. I'm scaring myself and I just feel normal after I've had something to drink," I admitted.  
And apparently I also was more open when I had something to drink.   
He shook his head and sighed again. The tiny amount of compassion I had left felt horrible for making him look so sad.   
"We can get you help, you know. If you let us. We could get somebody, send you someplace. God, Louis, we love you and you can't understand how worried you're making us. Like, Harry was one thing. But, you. You used to be a lot like him but now, now you're not. I don't recognize you anymore. There is nothing left of the old you. We just want to help, Louis. Please let us," he begged.   
I squeezed my eyes shut and dug my fingers into my temples. I wouldn't cry. Not in front of him.   
"I have help," I mumbled.   
"You need something more. You need to get away, go somewhere. You could go where Harry went. Consider it. You would get so much help and you'd be able to sort yourself out and talk to people in person and God, please consider it. We want you to get better," Niall whimpered.   
I exhaled slowly through my nose. His presence was hot. I could feel him burning a foot away. All of a sudden, I was overwhelmed.   
"Niall. I think you should, I think you need to get out," I mumbled into my hands.  
"Louis," he said hesitantly.   
I could hear him debate whether or not to reach out to me.   
"Get out," I thundered, jumping to my feet, "Or I'll make you! You know I will, too. And I'm not going to any fucking rehab. I'm fine! I don't need to be monitored like I'm some suicidal brat! I don't need help! Get out!"   
Niall backed away, eyes wide. He didn't understand what had angered me and quite frankly, neither did I. All I knew was that I was seeing red and a tiny part of me knew that he had to get out before I lost it.   
He hovered at the door.  
I took a step towards him, my teeth bared.   
He scampered out, closing the door behind him.   
I stood in the center of the room, watching it swirl around me until I couldn't see straight or focus on any one thing.   
When my eyes cleared, I was on my hands and knees and breathing hard. I was still seeing red, but it was in the blood streaked across my hands.   
It wasn't the first time I had blacked out and found myself surrounded by destruction.   
I rocked back onto my knees and surveyed the damage.   
Another ruined painting. A hole in the wall. Mirror shattered. Chair and table turned over. Chair with a broken leg. Lamp broken. Assorted clothes and sheets flung everywhere. Pillow feathers everywhere.   
I'd have to pay for yet another damaged hotel room. It was a surprise that nobody on any hotel staff had let anything leak.   
I allowed myself to cry. My tears mingled with the blood dripping down my hands. It probably hurt, but I didn't feel it.  
I didn't even know why my hands were bleeding. Had I shattered the mirror with my fists? Had I punched the hole in the wall? Had I cut them on the glass that was scattered everywhere.   
I spent the night trying to pick up everything as best as I could. The lamp was okay, other than the bulb. I hung the painting back up on the wall; it only had a small crack on the edge of it. I turned the chairs and table back over but the leg of the one was ruined, as was the mirror. I picked up the glass as best as I could, hissing as it cut into my fingers. I made the bed and tossed my clothes back into the suitcase. The hole in the wall would have to be fixed.  
My hands started to throb as my mind cleared and the numbing residual anger faded. I washed the blood off and cleaned the cuts with citrus scented soap. It stung, but the pain kept me rooted firmly to the tiled floor.   
By morning, it didn't look half bad. I left a few hundred pounds on the desk to pay for the damage. I didn't know how much it would cost to replace the mirror and light bulb or fix the hole, so I guessed. I wrote a short note saying what needed to be fixed and a quick apology that left no explanation.  
When I met the boys to go wherever we had to go for the day, Niall eyed me.   
"What happened to your hands, Lou?" Zayn asked.   
"Dunno," I mumbled truthfully.   
He eyed me skeptically but he thankfully didn't press it.   
As we ambled off, Niall held back with me.  
"I'm not gonna tell them. I heard you last night. I won't say anything about the alcohol either. If it doesn't stop, they'll find out eventually anyhow," he murmured before catching up with everyone else.  
I stared at him.   
Why wouldn't he tell them, especially if he had heard me going completely ballistic after he had left?   
I didn't understand him but I appreciated it. They would probably ship me off to the nearest mental hospital if they knew. I was glad that I had forced Niall out in time before I had gone under and succumbed to the black part of my mind.   
I could only imaging how he had felt, listening to me scream and break things. I pictured him slumped against the other side of my door, helpless and crying because he couldn't do anything to stop me. It hurt too much to think about, so I stopped.   
But he was right. I needed help, more than calling Dr. Benson, as much as I hated to admit it.   
How much longer would it be until I went under while the boys were around? While fans were around? How much longer until I hurt somebody?   
I had no way of controlling myself when I was like that. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I never remembered what the Mr. Hyde side of me did until I opened my eyes and saw it for myself.   
As we walked into some magazine interview, I eyed the people we passed.  
I could kill that woman, I thought to myself, if my mind decided to go dark right now, I could kill her.   
Or them, those fans waiting outside that we owed everything to. I had my pick of who to destroy like I destroyed that hotel room.   
I wondered if a bone was harder to break than a chair leg, if shattering a nose was like shattering a mirror.   
As we filed out, I felt dizzy, my stomach churning.   
"Toilet?" I asked hazily.   
I was pointed in the direction of it and I stumbled around until I found it. I was immediatly sick as soon as I got into a stall.   
What was wrong with me? How could I think those things?  
I wiped my mouth and flushed. After I washed my hands I splashed water on my face. I caught sight of my face and for a moment, I thought that there was a stranger in the bathroom with me.   
But as I flicked my hair out of my face, so did that stranger.   
Who was that?   
That wasn't me. I didn't look like some sort of homeless serial killer.   
But I did and it felt like somebody pouring ice down my back.   
As I shuffled out in a haze, I caught Harry's eyes briefly. I tricked myself into thinking that I saw concern there, that he was actually worried about me. I looked away. That was ridiculous. Harry didn't want anything to do with me and he didn't care.   
Hot rage boiled in my stomach and I pinchdc the inside of my arm. NO, this wasnt going to happen.   
It didn't. The shock of the pinch made it simmer down until it was next to nothing.   
We made it out and into the van waiting to take us to our next destination without a problem. I even took a few pictures. Granted, I looked horrible, but I managed to force a smile and cross my eyes. How our fans knew where we would be, I never could figure out.   
I had to push past Harry to get to another fan and his fingers grazed my hip. I stiffened and he snatched his hand away.   
"Sorry," he muttered before I went out of hearing range.   
He didn't really look sorry when I glanced at his face. But then again, it shouldn't really have been a big deal. He probably didn't think it was.   
When we were in the van, I was allowed to sit in the front. I usually was. I felt suffocated being pressed up against everyone else in the back.   
I leaned my forehead against the window.   
It did nothing to cool the burning area where Harry had touched me. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry's POV

I was laying in bed, not really doing anything, when somebody knocked at the door. We were at the last hotel of the trip before we could go home and everybody was exhausted. I figured that everyone else would be sleeping, but evidentially not.   
I rolled out of bed and shuffled over open the door.   
Louis was standing on the other side, looking increadibly small and fragile. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and wet.   
I noticed that he smelled like alcohol and smoke but he didn't appear drunk.   
"Can I...can you come cuddle with me?" he whispered, his arms hugging himself so tightly that I thought he might break.   
I stared at him as his lip wobbled.   
"Why?" I asked.   
He'd been avoiding me like the bloody plague. I had no idea where this was coming from.   
Louis shrugged, biting down on his lip.   
"Will you? Please?" he asked.  
I squeezed me eyes shut and leaned against the door frame. It was so enticing and he looked so sad.   
I opened my eyes as he wrapped his arms around my waist and tucked his face in my chest.   
"Yeah," I sighed, "Yeah, I'll come cuddle with you."  
Louis led me to his room. Why we didn't stay in mine since it was right there, I didn't know. His hands shook as he opened the door.   
He blinked owlishly at me as I went over to his bed. I noticed the clock had somehow gotten knocked off the nightstand, so I picked it up. Then I noticed that the wires had been ripped out. I was suddenly aware of the destruction in the room. Things were flung about and there was glass on the floor from a cup.   
Louis looked near tears as he observed me so I set the ruined clock down and patted the bed.  
"C'mon, Lou. Let's cuddle," I said.  
He dashed to the bed and flung himself down, immediatly latching on to me.   
"I dunno what's wrong with me, I'm so scared, please Harry, I need you, please don't leave, I'm sorry, please just don't hate me tonight, I'm sorry, not tonight, don't leave," he mumbled desperately into my neck.  
I put my arm around him and pulled him as close as I physically could.   
He was shaking. It wasn't like he was shivering because he was cold. It was full-bodied and continuous, almost like he was vibrating. His knuckles knocked against my chest as his quivering hands grasped my shirt.   
I buried my nose in his hair. He smelled like sweat and bars and Louis. It wasn't a particularly good smell, but I wasn't going to let him go.   
He was still slurring words, begging me not to leave, not to hate him. Judging by his speech, he definetely was drunk.   
"Lou, c'mon, calm down, okay? Shh, it's okay, I'm not gonna leave," I said, "I'm right here. I'm not gonna leave unless you want me to."  
Louis sniffled and pushed into me. We hadn't been so close in ages. Probably over a year. But it still felt familiar.   
Once he seemed like he had calmed down a little bit, I sighed and moved away the tiniest amout. He whined pathetically and tried to shuffle closer.  
"No, look at me," I said, allowing myself to touch his jaw and tip his head up towards me, "What's going on, Louis?"   
He shook his head and looked everywhere but at me.   
"I just miss you sometimes. And I felt so sad today. I just thought...when I was sad, you always used to cuddle with me, so," he mumbled.   
I nodded slowly.   
"I thought you didn't like to be touched?" I asked.   
Louis flinched, his muscles tensing in a ripple.   
"Yeah. But. You're you. It's like. I trust you. You're not going to hurt me," he muttered, trying to hide in my shirt.   
"But I do hurt you," I said quietly.   
"You won't hurt me like I've been hurt," he whispered.   
"What do you mean?" I asked.  
Louis hesitated and I braced myself, awaiting his confession of what exactly had happened while I had been gone.   
He sighed, "I can't. I can't tell you. M'sorry. I just can't yet."  
I stifled a groan of frustration. But he seemed genuinely upset that he couldn't tell me, so I didn't push it.   
Instead, I let him curl impossibly close and I held him tightly in return. God, I had missed having him close so much.   
He wouldn't stop shivering and it was worrying me. I rubbed his back gently and allowed him to all but climb inside of me.   
"Are you gonna tell anyone?" he asked timedly.   
"Tell anyone what?" I asked.  
"I'm not stupid. You know I drank. You can see how I broke that clock and that glass. Are you gonna tell them?" he whispered.   
I sighed.   
"I don't know," I replied.   
Louis tightened his grip on my shirt and shuddered.   
"They wanna send me to rehab. I don't want to go," he whimpered.   
"Lou, if it helps you get better, then you should go. I didn't want to go. But it does help, a lot," I said.   
Louis buried his face under the collar of my shirt. I felt his eyelashes against my chest as he shut his eyes.   
"You wouldn't visit me, though. You use any excuse not to see me. Don't you see? I need you in order to stay sane. You can't...you can't just leave for six months and expect me to be okay," he hissed weakly.  
"What if I did visit you? Would you go then?" I asked.  
"You wouldn't," he mumbled.   
"But if I did," I insisted.  
"You wouldn't."  
Louis tucked his head under my jaw, his breath warm, "You say I'm selfish, but you're selfish too," then, "Will you...can you please stay? Tonight?"   
He was still shivering. I tried to mentally channel my body warmth to him.   
"Yeah," I agreed hesitantly.   
I kicked my legs until the covers were down and I pulled them around us tightly.   
He wouldn't stop shivering.   
"You cold?" I asked.  
Louis shook his head.   
"Why're you shaking?" I asked.  
"I'm scared," he whispered.  
My heart broke for probably the fiftieth time that night.  
Louis didn't get scared. He was brave. He was invincible.  
It was hard for me to wrap my mind around what was happening. He was so fragile and scared. He had changed so much while I had been gone, had changed so much since I had moved out of his house.   
"Lou," I groaned.  
I could feel physical pain from how much I loved him. I felt ridiculously protective and it hurt that I couldn't defend him from himself.   
It had to hurt him, how tightly I was holding him. My fingers dug into his back and it had to be painful. He didn't complain. I wasn't sure if it relieved or worried me.  
I only allowed myself to drift off once I felt his breathing slow and cute little snuffles against my skin.   
I woke up only an hour or so later, Louis whimpering quietly. He seemed to be trying to muffle himself, but it wasn't working.   
"Lou? Wassit?" I mumbled.   
His shivering had intensified.  
"You're not gonna hurt me? Swear you're not gonna hurt me?" he breathed shakily, his voice high-pitched and frantic.   
"God, Louis, I swear I'll never lay a hand on you the wrong way. I couldn't bear it if I did," I said.   
"Okay," he replied.   
And just like that, he relaxed again. Little tremors still ran through his body, but he sighed slowly and I assumed that he fell asleep.   
Why did he trust me so willingly? He was so confusing and I was so enthralled.   
It was hard to go back to sleep after that. After an hour of fighting to sleep, I gave up and focused my attention on Louis.   
When we had lived together and slept together, I was always mesmerized by him. He was bright and full of energy, never pausing for a minute, but at the end of the day, I was the only one allowed to see the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face.   
He murmured something in his sleep and his hands relaxed their grip on my shirt. I rested my chin on the top of his head and tried not to think about how I felt.   
The smell of the bar had faded away and as I inhaled, something much more sweet and more Louis had replaced it.   
With a quiet sigh, one of his hands moved to curl into my hair.   
I bit my lip. I was so fucking in love, even if he said love wasn't real. It had morphed into something fierce and burning instead of the slow ache that it had once been. I just felt so protective, like it was my duty to keep Louis from ever hurting. It was ironic, really, because I was the reason behind all of his pain.   
I stayed awake the rest of the night, keeping a close watch on Louis. Ocassionally he would murmur nonsense, not even words, really, and I would have to smile.   
I knew immediatly when he woke up. It happened in a ripple. He hummed quietly, pressing close to me. Then, his eyes blinked open, his eyelashes brushing against my throat. Then, he was tensing and rolling out of my arms, sitting up and looking straight ahead.  
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low.  
"You asked me to stay. I did," I said.  
Louis really hadn't been that drunk. I would have been surprised if he hasn't remembered.  
He let out a slow, shaky sigh and ran his hands over his face. He looked troubled and I wanted to smooth out the wrinkles in his forehead with my thumb.   
"You shouldn't have stayed," he said gruffly.  
"I wasn't going to just leave you," I protested.   
"Wouldn't be the first time you left me, would it?" he snapped, "You need to go."  
I stared at him. I reached out and touched his arm.   
Louis flinched and jerked away.  
"You shouldn't have stayed," he whispered before getting up and disappearing into the toilet.   
I sat on his bed for about ten minutes, listening to the water run as he showered.   
I got up eventually and because I didn't have anything else to do, made his bed. I eyed the broken glass and picked up a few of the bigger pieces but I didn't risk anything more than that.   
When Louis came out of the bathroom, he froze. I watched him warily and flipped the piece of glass that I was holding into a bin.   
"Why are you still here?" he growled.   
I shrugged.   
"Was just trying to clean up. Help, you know," I replied.  
"I don't fucking want your help," he spat, "Just go, okay?"   
I nodded carefully, trying not to look at how his ribs were a little more prominent than how I remembered.   
"Alright. I'll see you later, Louis," I said quietly.   
I didn't leave immediatly. We stared at each other for a long minute.   
In that minute, his resolute anger slowly faded into something much more sad.   
"Lou," I started, trying to think of something to say.   
"Don't," he said gruffly, "Just...please don't."  
I bit down on the inside of my mouth.   
"Okay," I said quietly.  
I turned around and went out his door.   
Whenever I met the others in the hallway with all of my luggage together, I walked into incredible tension.   
Zayn and Louis glared at each other, hostility written in their faces and posture.   
"I'm telling you, Zayn. I did not drink last night. I haven't for months," Louis growled.   
"Louis, would you quit lying? There are pictures of you in a bar!" Zayn groaned.   
I was tempted to sneak back inside of my room so I wouldn't have to witness their argument.   
I pressed myself against the wall next to Niall and tried to keep myself invisible.   
"Harry was with me last night! Tell him I wasn't drunk, Harry! Tell him!" Louis commanded, a note of vicious desperation in his voice.   
So much for staying invisible.   
I chewed on my lip for a moment while the lads stared at me disbelievingly. I knew what they were thinking. Louis and I spending the night together was more unbelievable than him not getting drunk.   
I sighed, feeling nauseous.   
"You were drunk. You smelled like alcohol," I whispered guiltily, unable to look at him while I said it, "You kept slurring."  
I knew what I'd see, anyways. I'd betrayed him.   
I figured that the lads deserved to know. If it got Louis the help that he needed, even better. He made a quiet, hurt noise, passing it off as a cough a moment later.   
Zayn was absolutely seething.  
"I don't know why you bother lying; you've not walked straight in months-"  
"I stopped!" Louis roared, "I stopped, okay? For a good while! I quit cold-fucking-turkey and that's hard enough in itself. So I had one drink last night, there's no need to throw a fit over it! I learned my lesson; I'm not going to go back there."  
"You're an alcoholic Louis, one drink and you're down that road again-" Zayn started.  
"I am not an alcoholic!" Louis screeched, loud enough that a few moments later, a few members of our security team were darting up the hallway to see what was wrong.   
I knew from his letters how hard Louis had worked to try and convince himself of something that obviously wasn't true, that he wasn't an alcoholic.   
"Everything okay?" one of the guards asked.   
Neither Zayn nor Louis responded. They were too busy snarling at each other.   
"Just a bit of a disagreement," Liam answered warily, eyeing them.   
The guards nodded, clearly not believing him.  
"The van's ready," one said.  
As Louis walked past me, jerking his bag behind him, I could all but feel the anger radiating off of him. He paused a moment in front of me.  
"Why would you tell them?" he hissed, his voice low enough so that nobody would hear.  
"You need help, Louis," I answered quietly.   
He met my eyes briefly, looking up. Jesus Christ, he looked so hurt and betrayed.   
He shook his head.   
"You would know all about that, wouldn't you?" he sighed before stomping away.

 

Louis's POV

The ride back to London was painfully long. I couldn't even sit in the front. Liam acted as the human buffer between Zayn and I with a very real fear that we would go at it regardless of him being between us.  
I stared daggers into the back of Harry's head. I wondered if he could feel it.   
I couldn't believe him. Who was he to say I needed help? Him who had scars up to his elbows and down to his knees, him who saved himself from a death of starvation by overdosing and slitting his wrists. So now that he was out of rehab, that meant he knew everything about getting help, didn't it? God, he was such a pretentious, hypocritical prick.   
I tried to ignore the feeling of Liam pressing against my side, but it was making me feel sick. My mild hangover didn't help. My head throbbed, but it was more from stress than alcohol.   
As Liam shifted, his thigh pressed harder against me and in turn, I all but molded against the side of the van.   
"Liam," I hissed, my head giving a particularly sharp throb, "Can you please move over?"   
He looked over, noticing my obvious discomfort.  
"Oh, yeah, yeah, of course," he said quickly, shifting so that he was all but sitting on top of Zayn.  
It did little to remove the weight in my lungs, but I shut my eyes and tried desperately to pretend I was somewhere else.   
I had never been claustrophobic. I could handle tiny spaces. But after everything had happened, I'd be fine as long as I was alone in those tiny spaces. Put me in a large space with one other person and I felt like I was being suffocated.   
It felt like days before I was being dropped off at my house. I bolted, hardly remembering to get my bag out as well. I managed to hold it together for as long as it took me to get inside, but as soon as the door shut, I was collapsing in a gasping, shaking heap.   
I didn't even know what I was panicking about exactly. I was relatively comfortable with the lads. I could deal with a hand on my shoulder and on a good day, on my waist for a moment or two.   
I rolled onto my side.   
"Harry," I whimpered pathetically, "Harry."  
It had been so good, letting him hold me, letting him coo at me and comfort me. I worked so hard to seperate myself from people and build up walls. It was a relief to let them down.   
He pitied me, obviously; it was the only reason he had stayed. He didn't care. He just pitied me.   
I had tried to convince myself that I wasn't safe with him, that he could hurt me without a second thought. He said that he wouldn't. I had believed him.  
I knew how stupid it was to fall into a belief that I could trust him, that he wouldn't hurt me. I knew better. I wasn't fuzzy from a few drinks and I realized how idiotic it had been. I should have never gone to him.   
But with my rationality mixed with alcohol and seeking comfort, I'd found myself knocking on his door with no real recollection of getting there. And when he'd let me into his arms on my bed, my mind was useless.   
He had seemed like he genuinely cared, like he needed me like I needed him.   
But it was all bullshit and I knew that.   
It was weird when I had come out of my shower and found him still there. For a brief, terrifying moment, I had thought that he had been about to cut himself with the glass that he had held. But he had just been cleaning it up. At least, he had appeared to be cleaning it up.  
I couldn't get over how he had betrayed me. He was trying to get rid of me, it was obvious.   
By telling the lads the truth, that I really had been drunk, he was trying to get me 'help'; he was trying to get me locked away into whatever padded cell I needed. That way, he'd be rid of me. He wouldn't need to worry about me pestering him, hurting him anymore.   
I picked myself up from the carpet, kicking my bag out of the way. I headed into the kitchen, poking around the empty fridge, looking for something that I wouldn't eat anyways. I wasn't dissapointed when I didn't find anything.


	14. Chapter 14

Louis's POV

I hated myself.   
A lot.   
In my defense though, I was trying to protect myself. I couldn't handle Harry being mean to me; I was unstable as it was. So I avoided him like the plague.   
It wasn't necessarily avoiding, as I had to be with him too much for my liking, but I refused to be nice. I didn't give him the oppertunity to hurt me because I hurt him first.   
It was funny, how he tried to get me to think that he was acting civil again. He was polite and nice to me but I knew better. He would hurt me in the end.   
I had been so stupid to go to him for comfort. It had been out of habit, one that I needed to break. He didn't care about me. I needed to get it though my head.   
"Hi," he greeted as I walked inside of the building that we were being interviewed inside.   
I didn't acknowledge him, going to stand in the corner and pretend to text somebody. Who would I text, anyways? I didn't talk to anybody.   
His presence was like cotton in my throat. I couldn't swallow, couldn't breath. He was the only one else in the room with me.  
"Louis, I don't know what's going on, but-"  
"Shut the fuck up. I've got a headache and I'm not in the mood for a deep conversation or whatever you had planned," I spat.  
Harry blinked at me.   
"Sorry," he mumbled, looking hurt.  
Bullshit, he was hurt. He didn't care about me so why should he care about what I said?  
"I'm sorry. I just don't know why you're acting like this towards me," he sighed.  
"How is this any different than how you treat me?" I spat, "You have given me no reason to like you. I don't care what you're trying to make me think; you're a twat and I want nothing to do with you."  
Harry groaned into his hands.  
"Forget about it, Louis," he mumbled.   
"Don't mind if I do," I snapped.  
As everyone else filtered in over the next ten minutes, I noticed how sullen Harry was. He glared at the floor and answered people's greetings gruffly.   
I wondered if he had gotten much sleep and if that was why he was so moody.   
I hadn't, of course. I'd stayed up crying. I dropped a glass of water and cried for about four hours afterwards. I laid in bed and cried most of the day, save for when my angry side got the better of me. I no longer had a working television in my living room. I'd shoved it off the wall and hit it with the remote until both were broken because nothing good was showing at that particular moment.   
Sometimes my mind would just go fuzzy and when it cleared, it would be hours later and I wouldn't have moved from the spot I had been in.   
I was too tired to be scared.  
I looked up when Harry shuffled over.   
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I really am."  
I rolled my eyes.   
"Bullshit, Styles. I can see right though your act, you know. All this niceness and trying to 'apologize'. Do you think I'm dumb? I know you don't care. Guess what? I don't care either. So fuck off, you're making my headache worse," I growled.   
Harry bit his lip and glared at me.   
"Don't bother pretending your hurt. I know you're not," I said airily.   
He grunted and turned around, stalking off to the other side of the room.   
I almost cried with relief when I saw that there was a couch and two extra chairs whet we would be interviewed.  
"Sorry, boys. We figured we wouldn't be able to fit all five of you, so we had to bring the chairs," the interviewer said.  
Dan was his name, I thought.   
The boys let me have one chair and Niall took the other.   
We ran through the standard questions, focusing on Harry, as always.   
And then, "Naturally, you've got a wonderful support system. Does that make it any easier?"  
"Of course it does. These lads are always here for me. I know I can go to them if I need anything. They've been absolutely wonderful throughout the entire process," Harry said.  
He wrapped his arms around Zayn and Liam and stretched so he could touch Niall's knew as well. It was SO intentional that he was excluding me.   
I sucked in a breath and tried to mask how much it hurt. Liam brought his hand up to rest it on my knee but it wasn't the same.   
It was payback for earlier backstage, I knew it was.   
Harry'd play it off as not being able to reach to touch me, but I'd saw him glance at me as he did it. He was doing it because he knew it would hurt.  
I prayed the audience didn't pick up on what I was feeling. They probably would.   
"Of course your bandmates are there for you," Dan said, "And you've got others too. Tell me about, uh, Felix, I believe his name is. You've said how much he's helped you."  
Harry smiled and there it was again, he looked at me before speaking.  
"Yeah. He's my best friend; he's great. It's like, he's never selfish at all, the opposite really. He always puts me before him, actually. If I need anything, he comes running. He understands me and what I've gone through and it helps a lot. I'm living with him now, actually and it's great. I couldn't think of a better person to live with," he said.   
Okay. That was intentional. He had even smirked at me when he had said it. He was trying to hurt me.  
I didn't pay attention for the rest of the interview, just struggling not to slip away to the darker side of my mind like I wanted to.  
I wanted to make Harry pay for hurting me.   
I wanted to make him hurt. 

Liam's POV

It happened quickly. And really, we all saw it coming.   
Louis was running after the interview was over, trying to catch up with Harry.  
"What the fuck was that?" he snarled, grabbing Harry's wrist.   
"The truth," Harry spat back, wrenching his wrist out of Louis' grip and turned around.  
Louis grabbed at his wrist again and Harry whirled around and pushed him away.  
"Don't touch me," he growled.   
Something about that phrase triggered the resentment and hate and everything negative that had been slowly boiling in Louis.   
He bared his teeth, an almost feral gesture.   
Then he shoved Harry back.   
We could have stopped it, I knew that. But we were all frozen. We all secretly hoped that maybe if we let them get it out of their systems, it would fix things.  
Louis was flushed with anger and something about his eyes scared me. It wasn't hate and it wasn't anger. It was just something so dark and twisted that for a moment, Louis didn't look like Louis at all.   
Harry stumbled as Louis pushed him again.   
Then everything exploded.   
They were shouting and hitting at each other, ripping at clothes and skin. It was really just random insults; I had a feeling that they didn't even know what they were saying. I didn't know if they knew what they were doing.   
Louis didn't even bother dodging when Harry swung at him, no matter how hard and how painful it was. He just hit back harder.  
I could see his lip dripping blood down his chin.   
It was terrifying. He looked like a wild animal in a battle to the death.  
I heard a solid thwack and blood splattered across the hallway- I didn't know whose it was.   
That's when we all realized that this wasn't a scuffle or a fight to get the resentment out of them.   
They were genuinely out to hurt each other.   
And really, it wasn't a fair fight. While Louis was fairly strong, Harry was bigger and stronger. While Louis was all wild, furious blows, Harry was smooth and planned.   
Suddenly, Harry had him shoved against the wall, Louis choking out a cough as his back slammed into the concrete, but it was stifled as Harry wrapped his hand around his throat.  
"Fucking. Whore," he snarled.   
Louis just managed to duck his head to the side and dodge the blow as Harry's fist hit the wall.   
He snarled in pain and blood almost immediatly welled up in the gashes on his knuckles.  
I didn't know if it was the feeling of being choked or Harry's choice in words, but I saw Louis shut down.   
His face was reddening as Harry squeezed tightly around his throat, but he was ashen at the same time.   
He started to flail, his mouth dropping open to scream, but only a hiss came out with the restriction of air.   
His eyes were wide and they rolled back briefly.   
I knew that he wasn't seeing Harry in front of him. With Harry's final insult, he had changed into Ben.   
"Fuck, Harry, get off of him!" I yelled, "Get off!"   
I darted forwards and pulled back on his shoulders as hard as I could. He toppled backwards as Louis fell forwards.   
Niall and Zayn broke free of their own paralysis.   
They quickly helped Harry to his feet and he pulled against them, not realizing Louis' situation like they had.   
He was on his hands and knees, gasping for air. It wasn't even gasping, really. He was choking, retching, suffocating.   
He was wheezing out words in between strangled breaths.   
"Please, no, please, please, please, don't hurt me, don't touch me, please, no, please don't touch me, no, no, no, no, no, please!"  
His fingers scrabbled at the floor.   
Harry suddenly jerked as he realized what had happened.   
"Louis? Louis!" he hissed.  
He tried to come forwards, but Zayn held him back.   
"The last thing you should do is touch him right now," he growled.   
"Louis," I said quietly, crawling towards him, "Louis, it's okay. Ben isn't here."  
He convulsed as I said Ben's name and a terrified groan forced itself out of him.   
I stayed about a foot away, giving him space.  
"Please, I'm sorry, I don't want this, please don't hurt me, no, please," he whimpered, "I'm sorrysorrysorrysorry."  
"Go make sure that nobody comes through here," I ordered, "Go."  
Niall and Zayn had to drag Harry away, blood dripping from his nose behind them.  
"Louis. Louis," I coaxed, "It's okay. It's all over."  
I started to worry if he was getting enough air. It sounded like he wasn't getting to breath in at all, his desperate pleading and his choking inhibiting him.   
He abruptly snapped his head up. His eyes were physically clouded, a hazy film over them like he was blind.   
He probably was.  
I decided that it was the scariest moment of my life.   
Blood was trickling from his lip and a cut above his eyebrow- presumably from one of Harry's rings, droplets hitting the floor. The dark red was a stark contrast to the pale white of his skin. It wasn't an exaggeration. The only color was a little bit of grey on his cheeks. His eyes were struggling to focus, rolling back briefly before returning to me. His lips moved, wheezing out his words.   
He looked like a badly-made up zombie in a trashy movie.   
There was no resemblance to Louis Tomlinson in his face.   
I almost went to for help, afraid that he was having a seizure, but then his eyes focused on me and he was scrambling to his feet.  
He bolted down the hallway and turned. I got up to chase after him. He disappeared inside of a bathroom.   
I ran back to Niall, Zayn, and Harry.   
"He's in the bathroom," I said, "I...he's scaring me really badly. I've never seen it this bad before."  
"What the fuck is going on?" Harry thundered, "What's happening?"   
"We'll talk about it later," Niall said absently.   
"I want to fucking know now!" Harry spat.  
I pointedly ignored him.   
"Do we know if Louis has his phone on him or if he left it somewhere?" I asked.  
"Think he's got it with him," Zayn replied.   
"Do any of you know the number of his therapist?" I asked.   
"No, um, but you could probably call Stan or his mum? They should know," Zayn suggested.  
"See if you can clean up the hallway. It's got blood from Harry's nose and Louis' mouth everywhere," I ordered.   
I nodded, taking out my phone and tapping the correct contact.   
It was their house number and Lottie answered.  
"Hello?"  
"Hey, um, it's Liam," I said.  
"Oh, hi. This is Lottie by the way," she said.  
"Great, great, is your mum there? I really need to talk to her, like now," I said quickly.   
"Yeah, hold on. Is Louis okay?" she asked.  
"No. Just get your mum," I ordered.  
Within seconds, Jay was on the line.  
"Lottie said that you said that Louis isn't okay?" she said.  
Obvious worry filtered through the phone.  
I started to walk away from the boys, going to find Louis' bathroom.  
"Yeah. Um. He and Harry got into a fight, like a physical one, and Harry said something and it really triggered him and I've never seen it this bad before, so I don't know what to do and I was wondering if you had the number for his therapist?" I asked.  
"Yeah, of course. Hold on, I'll get it for you," she said.   
She gave me the number and I hung up, dashing back to the others.   
"Inhaler. Give it to me," I ordered Harry.  
"Um, inhalers aren't exactly things you can share. It's kind of-"   
"Give it to me," I hissed.   
He blanched, but he dug it out of his pocket and handed it to me. I sprinted down the hallway and barreled into the toilet, coming to a halt.   
Louis had apparently gotten sick. Everywhere. It was splattered across the floor, making me wrinkle my nose and grimace. His shirt was torn and thrown to the side carelessly.   
Louis himself was at the sink, desperately splashing water on his body and scrubbing at it. I could see raw, red marks where his nails dug in.   
"Louis," I said quietly.   
He jerked and froze. Soap bubbles slid down his chest and arms.  
"Louis, it's okay. It's just Liam. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," I cooed, "You're okay, Lou. Nobody's gonna hurt you now."  
He squeezed his eyes shut, hands tightening on the sink until they went white. His chest heaved with the effort to breath.   
"It's just Liam. I promise I won't touch you, okay? I won't touch you. I've got my phone and an inhaler. Do you want to call Dr. Benson?" I asked.   
He hiccuped in response, not moving from his tense position. I risked taking a tiny step forwards. He cringed, knowing I had moved without opening his eyes.   
"Louis, open your eyes. It's just me. I'm the only one in here with you. And I'm not going to touch you or hurt you. You've got to calm down, alright?" I coaxed.  
Louis's eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused.   
"Disgusting. Disgusting," he whispered to his reflection in the mirror, "They can see it. Disgusting."  
I carefully reached out and touched his arm, hardly even brushing his skin. The reaction was immediate. He scrambled back, eyes wide and breathing speeding up again.  
"Don't touch me! Please, it burns, don't touch me!" he shrieked.   
When he started to wheeze again, I slowly held out my hand.   
"Lou, please, use this, okay? I...you're scaring me," I said.  
He whimpered pathetically, eyeing Harry's inhaler.   
"I can't breathe. I can't breathe," he gasped, bringing his hands up to yank at his hair.  
"Louis, I swear to God, please, just...just take this, okay? Louis," I hissed.  
He was doubled over, his breathing a mixture of retching and quick, crackling pants.   
I foundered as it started to turn into something even worse. I licked my lips and looked around.   
I sucked in a breath and darted forwards. I jerked his chin up, forcing his mouth open, and jammed Harry's inhaler inside. I pushed down on the trigger as Louis flailed and then again after he breathed in twice.   
He slumped down into a sitting position and I backed up and kneeled a few feet away. It took several minutes before his breathing sounded like breathing again.  
"Louis?" I tried quietly.   
He was shaking like a terrified puppy. He cowered in the corner of the bathroom and quivered with fear. I hoped that the violent panic had passed.  
"Louis, I need you to look at me. It's just Liam. I promise. It's Liam. You know me. You trust me. I won't hurt you, I swear. Look at me, Louis," I coaxed.   
He looked up.  
"Liam," he whispered, "Liam, it hurts."  
I didn't know if he was talking about the physical or mental damage that Harry had done.  
"Yeah, I know. You're going to be okay, Louis. Look. I'm calling Dr. Benson right now and you can talk to him while I go talk to everyone else. I know it's gonna be hard, but we need to get you out of here. I'm gonna talk to Paul an we'll get you home nice and safe where nobody will hurt you," I said soothingly.   
I slid the phone over to him and he picked it up, hands shaking so much that he had trouble holding on.  
We were scheduled to go back on and do a few songs in front of the audience. There was no way Louis was in a state to do it. I wondered how much longer we could stall before we had to go on again.   
I stood up and backed out of the toilet carefully. Niall, Zayn and Harry were waiting anxiously outside.  
"Is he okay? What's going on?" Harry asked immediatly.   
I led them a little ways away from the door. I didn't want Louis hearing Harry's voice.  
"He can't go on. He's really shaken up. We've got to stall or something but more importantly, we need to get him out without anybody seeing. If any fans see him or touch him, it won't be good. So somebody run and get Paul and I need somebody's coat or something cause he got sick on his shirt," I demanded.  
"Here," Niall said quickly.   
He was wearing a shirt under a zip-up, thank God.   
Zayn was already off to get Paul.   
"What's going on, Liam? Why'd Louis freak out like that?" Harry asked desperately.   
I shook my head and didn't answer.  
"Christ, how are we going to get you back out?" I groaned instead.  
His nose was still bleeding a bit and it was swollen.   
"You can say he's having a nosebleed. Hopefully the audience won't see that it's swelling," Niall said.  
Paul was sprinting down the corridor, Zayn behind him.  
"What's going on?" he asked breathlessly.  
"Harry and Louis got into a fight and Louis needs to get home. He had a bit of a breakdown. We've got to get him out without anybody seeing. He can't handle fans right now and you've got to be careful not to touch him," I said.  
Paul nodded. He was the only one outside of our group and Louis's family that knew about what had happened with Ben. We had had to tell him after Louis nearly took a fan's head off for touching him.   
"Liam, go to him and tell him what the plan is. The rest of you go explain that he's gotten sick and can't perform and Liam will be right out cause he's making sure Louis is okay before he goes home," Paul said quickly.  
I nodded and darted into the bathroom. Louis was sniffling into the phone, clutching it like a lifeline.   
"Lou. Hey, Lou," I said quietly, letting him know that I was back, "I've got something for you to put on because you got sick on your other shirt, okay?"   
Louis blinked at me, eyes wide and scared, but he reached out and took the zip-up from me.   
"Paul's going to take you home and make sure you're nice and safe. You're safe now, Louis. C'mon. Let's go," I said gently.   
He curled into himself.  
"There's people out there," he hiccuped.   
"No. We're making sure that nobody sees you or tries to touch you. You'll be completely safe. It'll just be Paul. You know him. You trust him," I said.  
Louis took a few deep, labored breaths before nodding.  
It took a few moments for him to stand. His legs were shaking and he nearly dropped the phone as he put Niall's clothes on.   
"Good, you're so good," I praised, "You ready to go? You're okay, Louis. It's all over. You're safe."  
It was like I was talking to a child, but in this state, Louis was a child.   
Suddenly, he flung himself at me and latched onto my arm as we neared the door.  
"I don't wanna go out. It's safe in here, I don't wanna leave. Don't make me leave," he said desperately.   
"Sh, Louis, calm down. I'm not going to make you do anything that isn't safe. It's just Paul out there. Nobody else. It's safe out there," I insisted.  
A few tears trailed down his face but he nodded. He was still on the phone, I realized, but I assumed that Dr. Benson was keeping quiet. That was, until I heard a voice coming out of the phone and I realized Dr. Benson was encouraging him as well, convincing him that he was safe.  
Louis gave a small shriek as I opened the door and he flinched back.   
When he saw that it really only was Paul waiting for him, he relaxed a fractional amount. Paul studied him carefully.  
"He's touching you," he remarked.  
"Liam's safe," Louis whispered, "He's safe and he won't hurt me. It hurts and I'm scared."  
His eyes flickered wildly around the hallway, checking for monsters that weren't there.   
"Are you ready to leave, Louis? Let Liam go, okay? You can hold onto me. Liam has to go," Paul said.  
Louis carefully let go of my arm and I hissed as the blood started flowing again. He had had an iron grip on it.   
He carefully reached out to Paul, who offered his arm. Louis was tentative in grasping it, moving like he thought it might shock him.  
"Liam," he whined as I started to walk away.  
I paused.  
"Louis, let Liam leave. You're safe with me. We're going to get you home and in bed. Let's go," Paul chastised.  
I heard Louis start to cry again as they walked away. He started to get increasingly hysterical as they neared what I guessed was a back exit.   
"Liam! Liam!" he shrieked, "I'm scared, Liam, I'm not safe!"   
I swallowed back my own tears as I kept walking away from him.   
"Liam!"   
I broke into a run.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got asked about making a playlist for this series, so I did!
> 
> These Four Walls- Little Mix  
> All You Ever- Hunter Hayes  
> Break Me- Allison Gray  
> Drink You Away- Justin Timberlake  
> Battle Scars- Lupe Fiasco & Guy Sebastian  
> Don't Wake Me- Skillet  
> A Drop in the Ocean- Ron Pope  
> Dreaming With a Broken Heart- John Mayer   
> It Doesn't Hurt- Katie Thompson  
> Gravity- Sara Bareilles  
> Lost- Anouk  
> Turning Tables- Adele  
> Unwell- Matchbox Twenty  
> Save You Tonight- Cassandra Kubanski  
> What's Left of Me- Nick Lachey  
> 2 Steps Away- Patti LaBelle

Harry's POV

The story was that I had gotten a nosebleed, which had made Louis get sick. Louis didn't have a record of being squeamish, so I had a feeling that nobody believed us.   
The performance itself was probably the worst we had ever done. I stumbled over most of the words of my solos and none of us were focused. Liam looked near tears and when I wasn't singing, I had to keep dabbing at my bleeding nose.   
I hit the last note of Little Things and as soon as we were dismissed, I ran off the stage.   
"Where is he? Fuck, I need to apologize, where is he, Liam, I need to talk to him," I begged.  
Liam shook his head.   
"He's not stable right now, H. The last thing he needs is you," he said quietly.   
"I can help though; I know how he feels! I've gone through panic attacks before. Liam, I need to see him, you don't understand," I insisted, "I have to talk to him."  
He sighed, suddenly looking more tired than I had ever seen him.  
"Now where have I heard that before?" Liam muttered, a bitter edge to his voice.   
"What'd I do? Why'd Louis react like that?" I asked.   
Liam brushed past me and walked down the hall.   
Niall patted my shoulder before darting after him.  
"What happened?" I asked Zayn.   
"I think, Harry, that it's time that you learned what it's like to have your questions unanswered," he said.   
I scowled at him.   
"Listen to me, Zayn. There's something you guys have been hiding from me for ages and I think I deserve to know what it is. So are you going to tell me or not?" I snarled.   
"Calm down," he murmured.   
"That's not an answer!" I spat.  
He put his hand on my arm.  
"Listen, Harry. You just got into a fight with Louis. I get that your adrenaline might still be high right now, but don't you dare start with me," he said lowly.   
"You don't know how much I care about him, Zayn," I whined, "He means everything to me. I'm so worried."  
"Maybe you should have treated him like he meant everything to you," Zayn said, "I know you were doing it to protect yourself and that he didn't make it much easier, what with how moody he is. Even from the beginning, when he wasn't the best of friends to you, he still cared about you. He still does. It hurt him to think you just stopped caring."  
"You know I care about him! I love him!" I hissed.   
"He doesn't know that, Harry! I might, but he doesn't! Louis is programmed to think he's disgusting and worthless. You tell him anything deprecating to him and he'll believe you in a heartbeat," Zayn growled, "That's just how he is now. You never took the time to understand that, even when he tried time and time again to reach out to you. He wanted to apologize and you never let him."  
My head spun. I was light-headed from the heavy weight of Zayn's words.   
"I needed time away from him. He wanted to be friends and I couldn't do that. I had to leave him," I groaned, "And it really does help. It hurts less when I'm not always surrounded by him. I never wanted to hurt him, Zayn, God, you know that. I just didn't know what to do."  
Liam came rushing back, face grim.  
"We've got to get out of here now. Somebody, I don't even know who, I never saw anybody, somebody videoed you two fighting and they've got it all the way up until Louis went into the bathroom. The media's exploding, we have to go," he said, "People saw your nose and your hands are all swollen and cut up and how we were all acting and they know Louis isn't just squeamish."  
Had they not physically dragged me outside, I would probably have passed out. It was so much to handle all at once and my head spun wildly and my wrists burned. My stomach churned, fear and stress rising in my throat.   
"Think I'm gonna be sick," I mumbled as they herded me towards my car.  
Liam shoved me a few feet away from them before I doubled over, vomiting across the pavement.   
I could vaguely hear cameras. I wasn't sure if the spots in front of my eyes were from their flashes or because I was so light-headed.   
Liam pressed my inhaler into my hand and I took a puff of it, trying not to think about Louis using it.   
Niall handed me his water and I used it to rinse out the bitter taste in my mouth.  
"Thanks," I muttered.  
"Are you okay to drive? Be completely honest," Liam asked.  
I considered it. The brief flash of panic had passed and I was feeling better. My stomach still churned and the stress I felt was above average, but I wasn't dizzy.   
"I think so. Look, I'll pull over or call somebody if I don't think I can," I said.  
"Come over to mine. All of you," Liam demanded.  
I bit my lip. I'd been planning to go to Louis' and I had a feeling Liam knew that.   
"Give him some time and if he wants to talk, he'll talk," he said gently.   
I nodded.   
We parted ways and drove separately to Liam's. We'd left before too many paps could surround the building. When I got to Liam's, I stayed in my car for a minute, watching the video. I had to give the person credit; it was good quality. You could hear everything, see everything. Blood flooded into my mouth with how hard I was biting down.   
What I was watching was not Louis and I. We weren't that vicious, that deadly. It wasn't just a tussle, that was obvious. He'd wanted to hurt me and I'd wanted to hurt him.   
The camera managed to capture the exact moment that he had changed his demeanor. I cried my way through my hand on his throat and I forced myself to watch all over again as he writhed on the floor. I couldn't make out exactly what he was saying in the video, which was good.  
"Please, please, I'm sorry," echoed in my ears.   
I scrolled through analysis after analysis on Twitter. Red circles highlighted my nose and knuckles and the other reddening areas where he had hit me. Paragraph after paragraph was written about how we were acting during the songs.  
I choked mid-swallow as I came across a new picture. Somebody had gotten a picture of Louis coming out afterwards, only one as far as I knew.   
I had to put my phone aside for a moment and concentrate on not getting sick a second time.   
His lip was swollen and purple and there was a cut above his forehead, but that was the least alarming part of the picture. He seemed to be trying to get away from Paul, who was all but carrying him. Louis's face was blotchy from crying. It was the distress and fear that made me nauseous, though. His eyes were feral and terrified, his mouth open in a silent scream. Paul had his eyes shut; I couldn't tell if he was blinking or if he couldn't bear to look at Louis any more than I could.   
I flung open my door and retched, but nothing came up. My eyes burned and my ribs ached. Louis must have gotten a shot at them.   
I stood, my head swimming for a moment before I made my way inside.   
Niall and Zayn were already there.   
"It's bad. They can't get rid of that fucking video no matter how hard they try. It's spreading too fast," Niall murmured, "And the pictures. There's a few decent shots of you getting sick."  
I sat down silently. I could feel the blood draining from my face.   
They watched me warily.  
"He called," Liam said after a moment's hesitation.   
My head snapped up.   
"What'd he say? Is he okay? Does he hate me?" I asked.  
Liam shook his head.   
"He's okay. Not entirely there, but okay," he answered, "I didn't mention you. I don't know how he feels about you and I didn't want to upset him."  
"Where is he?" I asked.  
Liam shrugged.  
"Didn't say. I really only talked to him for less than a minute," he replied.  
I chewed on my lip. It was raw and sore.   
"I want to know what happened," I mumbled helplessly.  
I felt like a broken record; my only thought was about getting to Louis and apologizing.   
"You know how you didn't want us to tell him that you were in love with him? It's the same thing. He demanded that we tell him, but we didn't. It's his choice to tell you himself or not," Liam said.   
I was beyond frustrated. The way that Liam spoke so calmly made me irrationally angry.  
"Why didn't you protect him? You should have kept him safe! Why didn't you? I couldn't be there to protect him, so you should have!" I snarled, jumping up.   
Liam stood as well, striding close to me so that our chests nearly touched.   
"I did everything I could to help him and you never lifted a finger! You weren't the one to hold him when he cried because his best friend was shutting him out! You weren't the one to wipe the vomit off of his chin or brush his teeth because he was too drunk to do it himself or wrestle the vodka away from him! You weren't the one who had to listen to him say he wanted to kill himself for hours! You never did a fucking thing for Louis even though you love him! Don't you dare say I didn't protect him because I was there for him when you couldn't care less!" Liam roared.  
I probably would have hit him had Zayn and Niall not pushed us apart then.   
My vision blurred red and my nose gave a sharp throb. If I tried to fight Liam, it would result in much more than a broken nose. My poor nose had taken so much abuse. First, when Liam had hit me a few weeks prior and then Louis breaking it.   
I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled slowly.   
"Sorry," I muttered.  
I sat back down and tried to discreetly dig my nails into my wrist. They didn't say anything, but with the way they were staring at me, it probably would have been hard not to notice.   
"I'm sorry too," Liam sighed, "We're both really stressed and on edge."  
I nodded. The amount of stress was almost tangible. I could feel it pushing down on my shoulders, making them ache.   
My throat hurt in the way that it did before I started to cry. I blinked rapidly, refusing to cry in front of them. It was kind of pointless, really. They'd seen me cry hundreds of times.   
"I guess the question is what happens now," Zayn mused, "Are we addressing the video or what? People are going to want answers."  
Niall shook his head.  
"I think for the time being, we ignore it. We don't acknowledge it; we lie low for a bit. We're going to need to anyways, what with Louis and all," he said.  
I retreated as far back into the armchair as possible. I hated feeling so guilty. I loved Louis and all I did was hurt him.  
"Hey, H, don't look like that," Niall said gently, "You didn't know. You still don't know. Something was bound to happen at some point anyways, what with how he's been acting. He was drinking again and he's depressed and nobody even understands his mood swings, but. He was going to have a breakdown with or without your assistance. I mean, really, he's probably had one before, maybe several, just not to this magnitude."  
I grimaced.   
"I just don't like feeling so guilty," I sighed, "And I wanna know what's going on."  
They all stared at me.  
"How many times have we heard that before, lads?" Zayn said, "Really though, mate. Hypothetically, if Louis doesn't talk to you for six months and you feel like this the entire time, how would you feel by the end?"   
I groaned, rubbing at my eyes.  
"I know. I know I fucked up, but you've got to understand that it was the best descision for me. I thought about me for once instead of Louis being the center of everything in my life," I muttered, "And look. It helped."  
"He doesn't see it that way. You gave him no explanation, no reason behind shutting him out. In his eyes, you abandoned him and now he's convinced you couldn't care less about him," Zayn sighed, "I'm not blaming you, H, if it helped you. I'm glad you're healthy again. I'm just saying that you might want to explain that to Louis."   
"You blame me for hurting him when I came back though," I said quietly, "You all do."  
There was a hesitation before Zayn nodded. Liam and Niall simply looked uncomfortable.  
"I don't think...I don't think you understand what my situation is like. Louis looks like shit and I still think he's the most beautiful person ever. I'm so in love with him and six months did shit to make it stop. It still hurts, more than it ever did. You can't know how much it hurts to see him like this and be so completely helpless. I want him to be happy and I know I hurt him; I'm selfish, I know, but I don't deserve him at all. I don't want to hurt him ever. Maybe I was trying to make a clean break, hurt him until he gave up and couldn't be hurt by me anymore. And sometimes I gave into him. I couldn't help but care about him, show him how much I care. He makes me so weak; he holds so much power over me. Don't think that I like hurting him; I hate it!" I blurted.   
There was a few beats of tense silence before Liam's phone rang. He scrambled to get it.   
"Lou," he muttered before jumping up and quickly exiting the room.   
I started to get up to follow but a quick glare from Zayn sat me back down again.   
It wasn't very long before Liam came back. We all looked at him expectantly.  
"It was Paul. Lou's still not all the way 'there' but he figured he'd call and update us," he said.  
"So? What'd he say?" I demanded.  
Liam shrugged.  
"Not much, really. Louis won't let him come closer than like three feet away from him, so. Lou's been on the phone with his therapist since he left, but he's not talking to either him or Paul," he sighed, "He's just sitting on his sofa and shaking."  
This time when I bit down on my lip to keep from crying, the pain itself was enough to make me tear up. The skin was completely raw and it hurt in a bad way.   
"God, what'd I do to him?" I groaned, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.   
"Paul, um. I talked to him and he said that we may as well tell you what happened. Like, yeah, we said that it was up to Louis, but you should probably know so something like this doesn't happen again. Paul said that Louis doesn't seem like he'll want to talk about it any time soon, anyways," Liam said slowly, "I still think we should get permission from Louis, but he probably doesn't want to hear about you either, no offense."  
I sat forwards, very much like a child awaiting an exciting story. I knew the story wouldn't be exciting though.   
"So, we're doing it?" Niall asked.  
Liam nodded.   
"You wanna tell it, then? He told you directly," Zayn said.  
Liam nodded again. He took a slow, shaky breath and there was a silence that stretched endlessly while he tried to think of what words to say.  
"We knew Louis wasn't doing well. It wasn't like it is now, naturally. We had just gotten him to stop drinking so he was rather snappish every time we got him out of your place. Anyways, we were at mine and he stood out on the balcony for like a really long time. He was smoking at first, just to take his mind off drinking, I guess, but he stayed out there after he was done and it was pretty cold, too. Niall went out-"  
Niall put his hand up, cutting Liam off.  
"I went out. Louis was just kinda standing there and we talked for a while. He said that he wanted to disappear which kinda freaked me out, but he said he didn't necessarily want to kill himself. We started talking about you and he said something about how if you had told him you were in love with him, he wouldn't of freaked out. So, I kissed him and judging by his reaction, yes, he would have freaked out had you told him. But that pissed him off, naturally," Niall said.  
He spoke about kissing Louis as if it were the most casual thing. I knew from experience that it wasn't. Kissing Louis was revolutionary; it was life changing. It was fire and ice at the same time, beautiful and breath-taking. Kissing Louis felt like it could create world peace. I couldn't understand how Niall wasn't addicted like I was.  
"Yeah. Anyways, they came back inside and we watched some movie and there was a scene where a girl slit her wrists and killed herself. Obviously, Louis didn't take to that well; he stormed out and didn't answer when we called. We didn't really think anything of it. He stormed out of places all the time," Liam continued, "I was getting ready to visit you and he texted me, telling me that he needed me, so I went to him and let Niall and Zayn go visit you. So, I went inside and he was sat on his sofa. He showed me Eleanor's ring; she had broken up with him before he texted me. He told me that he had tried to sleep with some random guy the night but apparently it hurt too much and he was too scared. When Louis told the guy to stop, he apparently didn't believe him for a while but when he did, he hit him and called him a whore, which-"  
"Which was why he reacted the way he did when I said it," I said slowly.   
My head was swimming and I knew that if I said any more, I would vomit.   
"Bingo," Zayn said, "But the whole thing was basically the line that Louis crossed. I remember quite clearly coming to his house after Liam called us and hearing Louis say how much he wanted to die, over and over again. We sent him to Doncaster and I never went, Liam did, but Louis wouldn't talk to anybody. He laid in bed all day and took showers that lasted for hours when he got up. If anybody provoked him, he'd curse and yell until they went away, even his little sisters. Stan literally carried him, kicking and screaming, out the door when they made him go to a therapist. It did help, gradually."  
"He made a quick recovery when we said that there was a chance you might be allowed to live with him. It was too quick. He wanted nothing more than to have you back. He went insane without you and I think part of him thought that his mind would be healed as soon as he saw you. But obviously he went downhill rather quickly when you moved out. Maybe it started before that; I don't know. When I was in the bathroom with him earlier, he was like scrubbing at his skin and telling himself how disgusting he was," Liam added.  
I was freely crying. I hated seeing Louis hurt and hearing how he'd gotten so messed up hurt more.   
"I think it was the guilt and fear that really got under his skin. He's said himself that it wasn't rape. He contacted the guy, we don't know who he was, and Louis initiated it. But he didn't really want to; he knew he didn't. I can't imagine how scared and out of control he felt. And he felt so guilty for cheating on Eleanor even though they weren't even trying to pretend they didn't want to break up. I think that mixed in with how scared and used he felt and the guilt he felt over you coupled with the insomnia and alcohol just got too much for him and he lost it," Zayn said.   
"Can I see him? Please, I have to see him!" I begged, choking back a sob in order to speak.  
Liam looked at his phone.  
"We can...I think we can take you to his place, yeah," he said.  
The ride over was painful. I needed to get there. I needed to apologize and beg him for my forgiveness that I didn't deserve. I needed to make sure that he was okay. I wanted to baby him, to tend to his every need until he got better.   
I didn't care how I felt. I needed Louis, no matter how much it hurt.  
I bounded into his house. It was silent. I stopped. I knew immediately that he wasn't there. I couldn't feel his presence.  
"You lied!" I accused Liam, "You lied to me! You said I could see him!"  
Liam shook his head.  
"I said I'd take you to his house," he said quietly, "Paul took Louis to the airport. He needed to just get Louis away, he said. Management has given us three and a half weeks off so Louis can get his head back in the right space and they'll be pretty light with his work load until they see he's gotten completely better."   
"I think I need to lay down," I said, so dizzy that I could hardly stand.  
Upon instinct, I made my way up the stairs and into Louis' room. I stopped short in the door.  
It was a mess and not in the typical Louis sense. It seemed like everything was broken. His wardrobe was toppled over, his television broken on the floor. Picture frames were shattered, as was his mirror and lights. Clothes were everywhere and. One of the posts on his bed was broken off and hanging out of a hole in the wall. I could see into his toilet and everything in there was thrown around as well. I could see the spidering cracks in the mirror.   
The resonating anger was palpable in the room.   
I sat down on his bed, the sheets thrown into a corner.   
Even though I was amidst destruction, I still felt like the most broken thing in the room.


	16. Chapter 16

Louis's POV

I would never be able to say what happened the first four days. I vaguely remembered the airport and then it seemed as if I fell asleep one day and woke up the next morning, but there was a four day gap that I didn't remember.   
My mind was foggy and my head spun as I rolled over. I picked my phone up to look at the time. It was early evening. The one thing I knew to do was to text my mum and let her know that I was still alive.   
"We're taking a big risk, letting you be on your own. You need to let yourself recover and we're very, very hesitant to do this. You have to text your mum or me or the boys at least three times a day and you have to eat, drink, take your medicine, avoid alcohol, and keep yourself safe. Got it, Louis?"  
The memory of Paul's voice was hazy. I couldn't remember when he had told me that. Before we had gotten on the private plane he had hired? Before he had left the hotel? Was it a phone conversation? I couldn't remember.   
I sat up, lazily fumbling for the small white bottle that held my pills and a bottle of water. I didn't remember when or what had happened, but I knew that at some point Paul had come back. I'd been prescribed a more aggressive anti-depression but I was still taking the old one as well to control my violent mood swings.   
I eyed my room. It was a mess. I didn't remember any of it, but nearly everything was broken. We would have a hell of a bill to pay. I didn't care. Nothing mattered to me.   
I slid out of bed and stood still for a moment before shuffling to the toilet. I pissed and washed my hands while trying to avoid my reflection in the broken mirror. I caught my own eyes as I turned around though, and it made me freeze, my breath stopping in my throat.   
For a moment I thought there was an intruder and I whirled around. There was nobody behind me. I carefully turned back to the mirror, touching my fingers to the broken glass. The cracks distorted my face but I wouldn't have recognized it hadn't been broken.   
There was no way to describe how I felt in that moment, how I felt since if gotten into the fight. It was like a sinking feeling in my stomach but it never stopped sinking. I just felt more and more hollow.   
My eyes fell on the fading bruise on my throat, shaped perfectly like fingers. Harry's-   
No. A shiver ran down my spine and-  
Fucking whore-  
I hissed, shoving my hands over my ears. It did nothing for the voices in my head.   
I stumbled and slammed my head into the wall.   
"Shut up, shut up," I screeched, "Shut up."  
I hit my head against the wall over and over without feeling the pain. I stopped when stars burst in front of my eyes and I swayed, close to losing consciousness.   
I collapsed against the sink, jerking and ramming my elbow back into it. There was a sharp crack but the cupboard door didn't break. I snarled and turned so my back was against the wall. I lifted my leg and drove my heel against it. One, two, three kicks later and my heel broke into it.   
I stood, limping on my now-bruised foot and went back out to the main room, not before ripping the shower curtain off of the rod.   
My forehead had split open. Blood ran down and blurred my vision.   
I tripped, my foot aching, and fell, hitting my head against the desk.   
That was enough to knock me out.   
Six more days disappeared without me remembering a thing.   
Whatever part of me that was conscious during the times where I blanked out remembered to text my mum and feed my body.   
I came back into myself while I walked down the street. I jolted, confused about my surroundings and incredibly disoriented. I didn't care where I was, past the original confusion.   
It was night and nobody was out other than the stray car and the occasional pub-goer. Nobody recognized me. I didn't recognize myself.   
I kept walking aimlessly, allowing my body to take over for me. I found myself on a bridge. It was big, a suspension bridge overlooking a large river. The river was wide and flowing fast. I leaned against the rails.   
I allowed myself to toy with the idea of just jumping, getting it over with. I closed my eyes, imaging what it would feel like to hit the water. Maybe painful for a second. The bridge was high enough that I could break a bone or two just from hitting the water. But it would be okay, because if the fall didn't kill me, I'd drown. I was used to not being able to breath that it wouldn't bother me. My lungs hurt every day; they struggled against the heavy weight of my aching heart. Maybe I had gills. Maybe I belonged in the water and that was why it hurt to breathe.   
I wanted the river sweep me away.   
"Louis Tomlinson Killed By Suicidal Jump,' I imagined the headlines would read.   
My grip tightened on the rails. I wanted it so badly, was the thing. I didn't want to live. I'd lived this pain, this anticipation of nothing, for so long. I took a slow breath and smiled. I opened my eyes, listening to the water rushing below me.   
So. I was going to do it. A rush went through me.   
"Hey."  
I jumped about a feet and spun around.   
There was a girl standing in front of me. She looked about my age. She gave me a half-smile and came to stand next to me.  
"You gonna jump?" she asked.   
I stared at her.  
"Pointless question. I know you were going to," she said.  
I sucked in a gasp as she swung her leg up on the rail. I reached for her, to pull her back as she hopped up. She curled her fingers around the cords of the bridge.   
"Relax. I'm not jumping," she chuckled, "Wanna come sit?"  
I stared at her. She knew I'd been about to jump and she was telling me to sit on the edge, where even a non-suicidal person could easily fall accidentally.   
Still, I swung up to sit next to her. Everything was in a different perspective. There was no barrier protecting me. It would be so easy to just let go.  
I shut my eyes as the river swirled underneath me. It was dizzying.  
"So. What's your reason?" she asked.   
I looked at her.   
"Do you know who I am?" I asked.  
My voice was raw and raspy. I hadn't spoken in about a week and a half, so it wasn't surprising.   
"No. But judging from that question alone, you're some kind of celebrity," she said.   
She absently kicked her feet against the railings.   
"Yeah. You ever heard of One Direction?" I asked.  
"Vaguely. Boyband, yeah? Yeah. So, you're one of them?" she said.  
I nodded.  
"Fame getting to be too much? Drug addiction? Now that I know you're famous, I can tell everyone how I met some guy from One Direcfion about to jump off a bridge," she said, then, "I'm joking. I won't. I don't care who you are."  
I sighed.  
"No. Not fame and not drugs. Alcohol, though. H-arr-, this other guy from the band tried to kill himself cause he's in love with me and then he didn't talk to me for six months while he was in rehab. And then came the alcohol to make me feel less guilty and I got depressed and did a stupid thing...that- I just can't really talk about. Not yet. But he came back and lived wth me a while and he was so mean. It just went downhill from there. It got so out of control. I got so violent and I'd blank out and come back and the hotel room'd be ruined. I started drinking again. Then my band mate and I got in a fight and it just all exploded and I don't really remember much but now I'm here and I don't know how I got here but I want everything to stop hurting," I babbled.   
She blinked at me, then turned away and nodded.  
"They know you're here?" she asked.  
"Dunno. I guess they got told that I got shipped away to be by myself for a while, get back into my head again," I sighed, leaning against a cord.  
"How's that going?" she asked.  
"Isn't it obvious?" I snorted, "I want to kill myself."  
There was a moment of silence where we just looked out over the river. A cool breeze blew past and I shivered. I had apparently forgotten to put anything past a t-shirt on before going out. I looked up at the sky. The stars were beautiful, more prominent than what I was used to seeing in London.   
"You know, I'm an insomniac so I come out here a lot at night. You're not the first person I've seen about to jump and you won't be the last," she said finally.   
"Any ever actually jump?" I asked.   
It was tasteless, but I didn't care.   
"Yeah. A few, actually," she said, shaking her head, "But I've talked people out of it and that's what I try to focus on instead of my failures."  
"Do you tell all of them to sit on the rails?" I asked, a note of sarcasm in my voice.   
"Not all of them. Just the ones that I don't think will actually jump," she said.  
"What makes you think I won't?" I challenged.   
She shrugged.   
"I don't know for sure," she said simply, "But you haven't yet."  
On an impulse, I toed off my shoe and wiggled until it fell the forty feet it was to the water. We watched it hit and it was immediately swept away. I kicked my other one off.   
I shut my eyes and pictured what my body would look like hitting the water.   
"Do you die when you hit or is it drowning?" I asked, opening them again.   
"Depends on how hard you hit. But it's drowning, usually," she said thoughtfully.   
She smiled down at the water and kicked her own shoes off.   
Then she slid off the railing. I made a noise that sounded like a dying animal. She laughed as she clung to the wires.  
"Exhilarating, innit?" she yelled.  
She swung back and forth, wiggling her bare feet.   
I stared at her.  
"What the fuck are you doing? Do you want to kill yourself?" I snapped.  
She pulled herself back onto the railing and stared at me somberly.   
"Do you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.   
She jumped lightly down onto the pavement.  
"Nice talking to you," she said, "But I've become tired and I need to get home."  
I watched her jog away, bare feet slapping the pavement. I turned and jumped down.   
The road was cold under my feet but I didn't mind it. They went numb eventually. I didn't know what hotel I was staying at or where it was located, so I wandered around the city until I came to one that I thought looked familiar.   
I texted Paul asking what room I was in and he replied almost immediately.   
I went into the lift and sat down, curling against the back corner. It went up to my floor and the doors opened but I didn't get up. My limbs felt heavy and useless and I was too tired to move. The doors eventually closed.   
I had no idea how long I sat in the lift for, but it was nice. It was just a little, quiet room where nothing could hurt me.   
My own padded cell.  
Louis, Louis, crazy Louis, rocking to himself in his padded cell. The pillows are soft and he is safe but   
I was so lucky that nobody decided to use that specific lift that night. Eventually, the lights shut off from the lift not being used. I shut my eyes and wrapped my arms around my stomach.   
But then, I decided that I didn't like the dark. I felt like someone was watching me, getting ready to hurt me. I could see shadows flitting around, waiting for the chance to swoop down on me. Something like panic rose in my throat and I jumped up and desperately pressed buttons, not caring what floor they led to. I hit the doors as the lift started moving; the walls narrow and close around me.   
The doors opened, the lights flicking on and I all but fell out.   
I trembled on my hands and knees for a while, shaking and trying to push images away that were threatening to get into my head. I all but crawled up the stairs- I wasn't going back on the lift- and stumbled down the hallway to my room.   
I collapsed against the door when I got inside. I scratched at my arms, trying to tear my skin off. I wanted to remove the dirty, used skin from my body and start again. It felt like I had layers of filth piled on me and no matter what I did, they wouldn't scrub off.   
Layer One: Harry's love  
Layer Two: Every little thing I had done to hurt him  
Layer Three: His attempted suicide  
Layer Four: Alcohol  
Layer Five: Ben  
The rest of the layers were just buildups of stress and hate and Harry, Harry, Harry.   
I was disgusting. 

Harry's POV

I think the boys knew that I needed space. They let me mope around Louis's house for two days, occasionally checking up on me. Felix texted and called but he never came. He knew me well and he knew I just needed time by myself.   
Now that I knew, everything made sense to me. The way that the boys always gave Louis a little bit of space, the way he shied away from people touching him.   
I'd met rape victims while in rehab. Louis wasn't quite like them but at the same time, he was exactly like them. They were to be spoken to with nothing but gentle voices and approached with caution. Touch them only if they say it's okay.   
I'd witnessed a young girl bump into someone and have a seizure from the fear.   
Louis wasn't that extreme. He knew it wasn't rape, not really. But coupled with the stress and guilt, it was enough to change the way he thought.  
And sleeping with a guy in itself wasn't that traumatic, even under Louis' circumstances. The lads had told me that it was everything accumulated that had turned the situation into something worse.   
I begged and pleaded for them to tell me where he was, where I could find him. I texted and called him but there was never a response.   
And God, did I have an entirely new appreciation for Louis and everything I had put him through.   
Except, I probably had more answers than he had had.   
It was on day three of lazing around his house when I picked up his mail. I'd been forgetting to and it had piled up. I rifled absently through them, sorting the stuff that seemed important from the junk.   
And then there was one with my name on it. I picked it up and opened it. I knew that it was technically for Louis and it was rude to go through his mail, but I was curious.   
It was a bill for my flat. Louis was still paying for it.   
He had never said anything about it. I'd assumed that he had sold it or left our managers to deal with it. I bit my lip, immediately regretting the action. It was raw and scabbed over, splitting and bleeding every time I so much as moved my mouth.   
I ran my thumb over the edge of the bill and then over my scars.   
Louis wasn't comfortable in my flat; he'd said so himself. I had to go off of the assumption that he'd meant to ask me what I wanted to do with it, but had just never gotten around to it. He'd had bigger things on his mind.   
Before I knew it, I was walking into my old flat, setting my keys down as I walked inside. I wrinkled my nose at the dust that had built up. How long had it been since Louis had been inside? It had to have been before I came back and he wasn't the cleanlinest of people.   
I was going to sell the flat eventually; I knew that much. But it would be a pain to get everything out. I walked through and analyzed all of my old stuff. I picked out a few shirts and such that I wanted to take back with me. I held a mug that I had always saved for Louis to use when he came over. When we'd moved out of our old flat, I'd tried to give it to him, it was his mug, but he'd batted my hands away and said that he'd need his own at my flat.   
I'd liked the idea of it. It made it seem like living separately wasn't permanent, that we'd live together again eventually.   
And we had, truthfully. It just hadn't been the best of situations.   
I turned the mug over in my hands and sighed. I decided to take it. I'd put it back in Louis' kitchen, if anything.   
I realized just how many things in my flat were Louis'.   
His blanket, his stash of tea, his movies.   
He'd been funny when he demanded I keep his things around. For when he came over, he said. He didn't like my tea, so I had to have his. He thought my movies were too cliche and sappy, so he left some of his. And he had just liked the idea of having a blanket reserved especially for him.  
I'd clung to him as tightly as I could while I had still had him, so I hadn't protested at all. He never knew, but I had found myself curled up in his blanket, drinking his tea, watching one of his movies on more than one occasion.   
I wandered out and sat down on my sofa, clutching the mug. I set it down next to me and ran my hands through my hair.   
I missed him.   
I didn't even care about myself. I was so worried that it completely masked the need to cut. I didn't want to do it.   
I just needed him to be safe. With or without me, I needed him to be happy. I'd seen him cry too much, seen him smile too little.   
And, okay.  
I was the one who hurt him the most. I regretted everything. I wanted to go back and change things between he and I.   
I didn't care if we were just friends. Maybe I did, just a little bit. But in the end, I needed Louis like I needed to breathe and losing him completelyui was too much.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry about the wait and the fact that this is a pretty short and not very good chapter!   
> I've just been super busy with dance/musical, but the musical is over now so I should have more time to write.   
> Love you!

Louis's POV

I asked Paul to get me a ticket to some place sunny.   
I still had no idea where I was in the first place and it was fairly warm, but I wanted someplace hot.   
I thought maybe if it was hot, I would stop feeling so cold all the time.   
Plus, I was feeling restless. I was bored of my hotel, of wandering the streets in the middle of the night.   
So, I went.  
Paul bought the ticket for me and I went to the airport without so much as paying attention to where I was going.  
I thought people might have recognized me at the airport because it felt like they were pointing at me and whispering, but nobody came up to me.   
I didn't have any luggage.   
I typically wandered around my hotel naked and I had a small rucksack that Paul had shoved clothes into. I just used it as a carry-on.  
I slept the entire way on the plane.   
Paul had apparently rented me a small cottage in a little cove area.  
It had a small little section of beach with soft, white sand and the ocean was bright blue and nearly transparent.  
I knew that it had to have been ridiculously expensive to get privacy in a place as beautiful and hot as where I was, but I also knew that price didn't matter any more.   
I threw my bag down in the bedroom of the cottage and closed my eyes.   
It was a pretty little place and I knew that I just couldn't ruin it like I had with countless hotel rooms. I went outside and sat on the edge of the beach, letting the water lap over my toes when it came close to me.   
I took my clothes off and left only my pants on. I stared at the horizon of the ocean until I felt my skin start to burn. I went inside- there was lotion on a shelf and I put it on- then went back out.  
It was peaceful outside and inside my mind.   
It was strange, really, how I'd gotten used to being by myself. Back before the fight, being by myself meant having to listen to and be drug down by my thoughts.  
But now, I thought it was about two weeks later, it was like I had listened to all that my mind could throw at me. I wasn't better, wasn't sane by any means, but there was a shaky sort of peace in my head.   
It was nice.  
I laid back in the sand, it crunching underneath my head.   
It was nice, spending the days in the sun. My skin lost it's sickly pale color and started to brown.   
I felt a little bit like me again.   
Maybe the sun was burning off a few layers of filth.   
And the ocean was gorgeous. It was always cool, refreshing. I spent a lot of my time swimming, seeing how long I could hold my breath until I had to go back up for air.  
Sometimes, I swam out until I couldn't see the beach anymore. I'd float on my back and wish that the water would carry me somewhere I hadn't seen yet.  
But I'd been everywhere, seen everything.   
Then I'd swim back, swimming until I was so tired that my muscles ached and threatened to cramp up.   
One night, my fourth night, I found a pair of scissors in a drawer. I didn't think much of them until later when I was trying to get my hair to quit falling in my face.  
I was in the toilet, staring at myself in the mirror and then the scissors on the counter.   
My hair was long, nearly to my shoulders. I'd stopped caring about how it looked ages before and Lou could only do so much with it.   
I'd never cut my own hair before but I'd seen it get done enough times that I could guess how to do it.   
I picked up the scissors and took an experimental snip at the edges of some hair. And then, I couldn't stop. Hair fell down around my shoulders and tickled my face.   
When I stopped, I brushed it out into how I usually wore it and studied it.  
A few jagged edges, sure, but it really wasn't terrible. Then again, I couldn't really see the back of it.  
I didn't clean up the hair.   
All too soon, I knew the end of my three weeks of solitude would be over.   
I swam longer, lay out in the sun until it was night. I didn't want to go back. It felt like I would come back and see only what was once my home, like it would be simply debries and ruin. The people I knew would be skeletons, clothes in tatters as their bones lay sacrosanct the ground.   
And Harry.   
The bruises on my neck had long since faded and all of my other cuts and bumps had, but I could still feel them deep under my skin.   
It was Harry that I was afraid of but at the same time, he was everything that I wasn't afraid of.   
He made me feel like I was choking, like his hand was still wrapped around my throat, like he could kill me just that easily if he wanted.   
He made me feel like if I wanted, he would kill somebody just to protect me, like I was safer with him than anyone else, like he made me sane.  
And just the thought of everything that he made me feel was enough to make me run out of the cottage in the middle of the night and jump into the ocean.  
***  
My house wasn't in ruins and Liam, Niall, and Zayn definetely were not skeletons.   
I'd spent the last two days at my mum's house, carefully getting used to other people again.   
It stung, the way everybody tiptoed around me, like I was going to hurt them. The worst part is that they had a good reason to be cautious.   
But it was over and I had to return to London.  
They were waiting for me when I walked inside, dropping my rucksack on the floor.   
"Hey," I said quietly.  
They wouldn't stop staring at me and it made me feel hot and uncomfortable.  
Liam probably realized it because all of a sudden, he was jumping up and throwing his arms around me. For all he knew, I hated touching. For all he knew, I could have freaked out.  
But I didn't, and I think that he knew that I wouldn't.   
He felt safe and familiar and like home.   
"God, didn't think you were gonna come back," Liam mumbled, "Thought it was so stupid to leave you by yourself. Thought you were gonna get yourself killed."  
I tucked my face into his neck because all of a sudden I was aching for somebody's touch. I needed to feel everything that I hadn't felt on months.   
"Shh," Niall murmured as he and Zayn joined the hug.  
I had started to cry without realizing it.   
And so, that was it. Something clicked into place in my head. I had loved being alone but I had missed the warmth that came from knowing that somebody loved you.   
Their bodies were hot and it reminded me of my little cottage on the beach. I wondered if I could buy it instead of renting it. I probably could. It could be like a getaway place for when I felt overwhelmed.   
We moved our huddle to the sofa and I crawled into Liam's lap. I couldn't bear to part with somebody's touch after so long.   
"You look good, Lou," Zayn said as Liam pet my hair.   
My jagged, messy hair. None of them commented on it if they even noticed.   
"There were pictures of you at some airport like last week and Christ, you looked like death warmed over," Liam added, "What happened while you were gone?"   
I shrugged.  
"Dunno, really. I don't remember a lot of it. I'd wake up and it would be two days after I remembered falling asleep. Was in some small city at first, but I asked Paul for some place hot, so I went to a beach. I liked it there. Kinda didn't want to leave," I said, "Met some girl while I was in the city. She was nice. Met her while I was about to jump off a bridge."  
Liam's grip tightened in my hair so much that I hissed in pain and batted his hands away.   
"You tried to jump off a fucking bridge?" he spat.  
"Liam," Zayn warned.   
I nodded.   
"A few times. Obviously, I never did. Don't look at me like that!" I growled defensively, "Just...thought about it. Thought it might be nice to stop hurting for once. I've been hurting for what, nearly a year now since Harry started going down hill? And it's not stopped. I just felt done with it. There's no end to it, it feels like sometimes. Feels like I'll never stop hurting. I'll never be happy."   
"Lou," Liam sighed.  
I suppose there really wasn't anything much more to say, because we all sat in silence. I was used to the quiet, but it was weird to hear somebody other than me breathing.   
"May as well get it out of the way, but when do you think you'll be ready to see Harry again?" Niall asked.   
I not so subtly climbed off of Liam's lap and pressed myself as closely against the arm of the sofa as I physically could. I felt hot, like I was feverish.   
It wasn't that I was afraid to see him or I didn't want to. I did. I just didn't know what he would do. I didn't like the unknown.   
I shrugged.   
"Whenever, I guess. S'no point just putting it off. I'll feel the same no matter how much time there is," I said quietly, pulling at uneven ends of my hair.  
"Now?" Liam asked, raising his eyebrows, "You don't want to wait at all?"  
I shrugged again.   
"S'not him I'm afraid of."

Harry's POV 

I was mad, to say the least.   
Louis had been gone three weeks and nobody would tell me where he was. Probably for a good reason, I'd have tried to find him if I had known, but everyone was pissing me off.   
They said they didn't know where he was, but I didn't believe them.   
I busied myself with pouring over the articles and posts and videos about the video of our fight and the pictures of Louis and I taken afterwards. I needed to know what the media was saying, what our fans were saying.   
Not doing anything about the video seemed to be saying more than if we actually had addressed it.  
There were a few tweets from people saying that they had seen Louis at an airport but that he had looked sick and disoriented, so they hadn't gone up to him.   
Sick and disoriented.  
It had gotten so bad that Felix had taken my phone and laptop away from me and would only give my phone back if I got a text, call, or if he deemed an email important.   
We were lounging on his bed and watching a movie when my phone buzzed. He eyed the screen, paused the movie, and handed the phone to me.  
It was a message from Zayn.  
'Louis' back and he says it's okay for you to come over.'  
I immediately jumped up. I stumbled around the room, putting jeans on and trying to find a clean shirt. It was just Felix, so just wearing my pants while watching a movie was not an issue at all.   
He snorted as I banged my knee on his bed frame and swore furiously.   
"H, calm down. He's not going anywhere," he said.   
"Seeing as he just came back from disappearing for three fucking weeks, I think I have a right to be worried that he'll leave again," I grumbled, shoving my left shoe on my right foot.   
"Christ, at least let me drive you. You'll go and get yourself killed like this," Felix protested, standing.  
I shook my head.   
"I'll be fine. I'll text you when I get there, yeah? See you later!" I yelled over my shoulder as I all but fell down his stairs and ran out to my car before he even thought to argue with me.  
He probably had been right in being concerned about me driving. It wasn't a long drive going the normal speed limit, but I went much, much faster than was legal. My thoughts were swirling in a frenzy of louislouislouis and I nearly screamed when I had to stop at a light.   
I didn't text him when I got to Louis' house. I couldn't even think straight. I knocked tentatively and Niall almost immediately opened it. He eyed me carefully.  
"Look, just be really careful, okay? He says he'll be fine seeing you, but you never really know with him," he murmured in my ear before stepping back to let me inside.  
He led me upstairs. I assumed that they were in Louis' home theater that he had. I remembered helping him set up the huge flatscreen and nearly pissing ourselves laughing because there were so many fucking cables and neither of us had any idea of where they went.   
I'd genuinely laughed then. I'd been upset about him moving, but Louis had a way of making me laugh when I was sad.   
He used it more than his downstairs sitting room. He said it was because the sofas were more comfortable. I knew that he just really loved showing the telly off.   
"Careful, H," Niall muttered as I tripped up the steps.   
I stopped at the top. I could hear his voice floating down the hallway along with Liam's and Zayn's.   
"How is he, really?" I asked.  
Niall made a face.  
"He seems better. Very quiet, a little spacy, you know? But not quite in the way that he used to be, like how he seemed not to have any concept of reality. More like he's just lost in his own thoughts. But not bad thoughts. I think getting away really did wonders. And he's told us that he's found a therapist that he'll be seeing three times a week until he starts getting back on his feet a little more so he can start seeing them less," he explained.   
I swallowed hard. Liam poked his head out of the room.  
"Thought we heard you," he said gently, "C'mon."  
I shuffled down the hallway and stood in the door of the room. Louis looked up and froze.   
He was tan, was the first thing I noticed. His hair looked shorter and a little lopsided. But his eyes had a little bit of blue back into them, not quite the dull grey that they had been before they left. He looked more alive, less like the shadow of a person that he had been.  
His mouth quirked up into a tiny half-smile.   
It felt so cliche, but I completely tuned out everything but him. He stood, his knuckles white on the back of the sofa.  
"Welcome back?" I choked, clueless as to what to say or do.   
It must have been right though.  
All of a sudden, I was staggering backwards, my arms full of boy as Louis flung himself at me.   
I could hear Liam jolt, like he expected us to start swinging at each other again. We didn't.   
He tucked himself into my arms like he wasn't planing on leaving. His nose pressed against the hollow of my throat and his arms wrapped around the back of my neck, fingers curling around the fine hairs there.   
I couldn't help but bury my entire face in his hair, breathing in something purely Louis. He smelled a bit like the ocean, I thought. It worked.   
"Missed you," I whispered, "Don't ever just...leave like that again, you hear? I'm so sorry for hurting you but I'll do anything just to be your friend again. I won't hurt you anymore, I swear it."  
He nodded.   
"S'okay," he mumbled, "S'okay."  
It burned to hold him like I was, but I thought that it was maybe better to burn than to never know warmth.   
It was so intimate. He pressed as close to me as he physically could, like he knew how it felt for me to need him in order to breath.  
"Missed you too," he finally said, "I've missed you for months and months."  
Guilt seized my throat and stomach and paralyzed me with fresh waves of pain.   
"Should never have had to miss me. I'm so sorry, Louis," I groaned, "I'd take back everything, if I could, if it would make you feel better."  
He wrapped a hand in my shirt and tugged lightly at my hair with the other.  
"I'm not better, you know. Nothing near it. But I think, maybe together...," he hesitated, "I think I need you more than I ever realized."  
I smiled but it hurt. Still, I remembered everything I had felt while he had been gone and I knew how much more it would hurt to stay away from him.  
"I'll help you. I know...I know how it feels to break but I also know how to put pieces back together again," I said.  
"Humpty Dumpty," Louis said quietly.   
Liam cleared his throat and Louis jumped. He pulled back and stepped a few feet away from me. His eyes looked suspiciously shiny.   
I'd forgotten that the other boys had even existed, much less had still been in the room.   
I smiled tiredly at him. He held out his hand and I took it.   
"It does get better," I said, "It does."  
Louis bit his lip.   
"All the way?" he asked.  
I shrugged.  
"I'm not all the way there yet, but I'll tell you when I get there," I replied.   
He pressed his thumb into the scars on my wrist.  
"Better," he said faintly.   
I noticed the exhaustion written clear on his face, painted across his body.   
"Sleep?" I asked.   
Louis nodded, eyelids threatening to close despite him standing up.   
"Can you stay with me? At least till I fall asleep? It shouldn't be long," he said quickly, "Just don't want to lose you again."  
I nodded.   
"You never lost me in the first place."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any excuse for the wait. I'm just super unmotivated and losing interest in this story because I've been writing it for so long.   
> But I'll finish it, don't worry!!! I'm just not as enthusiastic as I once was.  
> Love you!!

Louis' POV

It wasn't like Harry and I went back to being best friends. Not even friends, really. We tip-toed around each other whenever we were in the same room.   
The boys made sure to get together nearly every day. They didn't want me to be alone, I knew that, and it was probably healthy for me, but I still went back to my own house every night and embraced being alone. I was used to it. I knew I was even more quiet than I had ever been, but I had simply gotten used to silence.   
We were called into a meeting with our management and it was surprisingly pleasant. It wasn't like I hated them, but they could be overbearing at the best of times. It was almost uneasy, the way that they assured me that they had my health as their first priority. What was even weirder was that I believed them.   
I gave them the name and number of my new therapist and they looked pointedly at Harry the entire time. They wanted him to see one too; they'd been pushing it since he had gotten back. He always wrinkled his nose and said that Felix and the occasional checkups at the clinic were enough for him but talking about mine made him tilt his head and seem to consider it for a moment.   
The second half of the meeting was mostly about what we would do regarding the video. We couldn't say that it wasn't us; the camera was good quality and aside from our faces, we were wearing the same clothes that we had worn for the interview beforehand. Coupled with the pictures of us coming out of the building, we couldn't deny it. The fans would never believe it.   
We couldn't really admit what it was without saying the reason why Harry and I were fighting.   
They even showed the video, debating if the audio could be mistaken for other things and we could lie about the reason why.   
I glanced at Harry. His knuckles were white around his water bottle and there was blood between his teeth with how hard he was biting his lip. I watched his shoulders jerk as his on-screen self shouted, "fucking whore," and he put his head down in his arms after that.   
He'd apologized hundreds of times, sitting on the edge of my bed the night I had come back as I fell asleep. He'd whispered it into my hair when I demanded he cuddle with me. He'd been tense, but at the moment, I had been sleepy and warm and too tired to care.  
Niall rested his hand on Harry's back, a subtle comforting gesture.  
On the other side of Harry, Zayn did as well. Liam patted my thigh but withdrew afterwards.   
It was eventually decided that we would ignore it as long as possible. We would only make a statement if we absolutely had to. Harry finally lifted his head at that, eyes suspiciously red-rimmed.   
The rest of the meeting was spent discussing plans for getting tour rehearsals back up and running and how much I felt like I could take.   
We hadn't rehearsed since Harry had tried to kill himself. We were beyond behind. Our tour had been delayed indefinetely since then, but management said that they would watch the rehearsals for a little while and see how Harry and I were doing mentally before deciding when we would start again.  
I thought that it was stupid to be rehearsing for a tour that hadn't even released dates yet.   
It would be nice to have normalcy, though.   
At least, that was what I was telling myself the next week. Nobody had been outside the first few days, but now that they knew we were rehearsing again, the fans clustered outside.   
There weren't even that many, maybe twenty or thirty. Less than I was used to, honestly. It was so weird, the way they sort of backed off around me, like they were afraid to talk to me or ask me for a picture. Everyone had arrived at more or less the same time, so they were signing autographs and saying hi to all the fans. I stood in the middle of the mass, unsure of what to do.   
My throat started to close up. I'd come back from three weeks of isolation but I felt even more alone, standing there with all of the fans. I felt like I was looking at what One Direction would have been if I hadn't gotten through my first audition.   
Everyone was pointing at me and whispering. He failed, they seemed to say, he never belonged, poor weak boy, failure, weak  
I wrapped my arms tightly around my stomach and tried to shrink as far into myself as possible.   
Then I felt a hand tug at my arm and I turned around to see a girl, grinning madly.   
After that, it seemed like the weirdness between the fans and I disappeared.   
As uncomfortable as I had felt being ignored, my head started to swim with normal.  
Five pictures and I thought I was going to be sick on the pavement. I gave a tense little wave to everybody and shoved my way through the rest of the fans.  
I pushed through the door to the studio and barely made it a few feet inside before I had to sit down.   
My head hurt, a phantom ache of countless hangovers. I could still hear the fans outside but they were all but silenced by the voices in my head. One was familiar, telling me how disgusting I was and that the fans had always hated me. One had started in the past week. It was more quiet, afraid. It cowered in the back of my mind, always there. It usually stayed silent. As I huddled against the wall, it started to scream. I shoved my hands against my ears. It was terrified. It was me. I felt sick to my stomach. My head couldn't figure itself out and it spun so hard that I worried it would fly off. I was so, so afraid and I jolted when I felt a hand on my arm.   
I opened my eyes. I didn't remember shutting them. My throat felt raw. Had I been the one screaming, then?   
Harry was crouched in front of me, eyes wide and worried. I stared at him. Carefully, he wrapped his hands around mine and slowly pulled them away from my ears. I let him.   
"Can you...?" I croaked, nodding at the space next to me.  
He nodded and crawled next to me, letting me curl around him.   
"I'm scared," I whispered without preamble.  
"It is scary," he agreed.   
"No, you don't...," I mumbled.  
"Understand?" he supplied, "Louis, I've been in the exact same place as you are. You think it's hard coming back after three weeks? Try six months."   
I looked away and toyed with the growing hole in the knee of my jeans.   
"I was physically here, but you know, not mentally. It's been longer than three weeks," I mumbled, "That sounded shit. You know."  
"Yeah. I do," he said, "C'mere."   
I was being drawn into his side, all but in his lap. I let him pet at my hair. Whatever made him feel better, I thought.   
"It's just scary. Everything is going back to normal but I'm not normal yet. And it's like, normal ruined us. You first, then me. What if going back to normal means that's gonna happen again?" I asked.   
I looked up at him and he was so, SO close, like he could kiss me if he wanted. He swallowed hard and for a moment, it seemed like he really might.   
I shifted away, feeling guilty. I wasn't making it easy on him. He'd never heal, not with me around. I was being so selfish, throwing myself at him and knowing how he felt.   
"'m sorry," I muttered.  
His mouth twitched into something resembling a smile but it faded quickly. He looked sad.   
"Louis, you know that you mean more to me than anything. I just want you to be happy again," he said quietly, "Come back here."  
We weren't even that far apart, our thighs still touched, but he tugged me as close as we could physically be.   
Neither of us could completely relax. It was partially that we were sitting on the floor of a hallway but it was mostly because of how unfamiliar we were with each other.   
We'd always been attached at the hip before. It felt wrong to shy away from him.   
I wanted to sit on his lap like I had when we were younger. I got the feeling that it wasn't the most appropriate time to do so.   
"We should get up soon. Everyone else is bound to come in," he said quietly.   
I nodded.   
We didn't move.   
"Do you maybe...do you want to come over sometime? We should talk," I suggested.   
"Yeah, of course," he said, "Are you okay now?"   
I nodded again and detached myself from him, quietly getting to my feet. I heard his knees crack as he did the same.   
Almost as if on cue, the other boys came stumbling in. They glanced between Harry and I and I felt almost guilty for having been alone with him.   
"S'just kinda weird to come back to. The fans, I mean," I said, probably a bit too defensively, "So I came inside."  
"Okay," Niall said, shrugging, "Whatever's best for you, Lou."  
I glanced at Harry but he was looking away.   
***  
Despite the initial weirdness, I slipped back into my life with ease.   
I was still afraid, still paranoid. I told myself to never let my guard down, no matter who I was with.   
Dates were scheduled for the tour and interviews were set up as well as tickets being sold.   
Harry and I were shaky, but stable.   
Sometimes we'd go an entire day without saying a word to each other but others I would just have to catch his eye before we started laughing and making faces at each other.  
It was horribly confusing and my mind and stomach were in knots around him.   
I found myself at my house on a day off, on my phone. My finger hovered over a contact that I hadn't let myself call in months.   
When Harry picked up, he was breathless.   
"Louis!" he gasped, followed by a squawk and a, "Stop it, you tit!"   
"I'll um...I can call back if you're busy," I said quickly.  
"No, no, it's fine!" he replied almost immediately, "S'just Felix being an arse. But he's left the room now, so."  
I swallowed hard.   
There's was a long pause. I'd had everything that I'd wanted to say thought out and it was so simple, really, but my throat was dry and I didn't remember how to speak.  
"Did you want something?" he asked.   
I nodded and then felt ridiculous for doing so.   
"Um, yeah. Do you maybe wanna come over and talk? Or watch a movie or just like hang out or something?" I asked, feeling entirely too nervous for something that I'd done hundreds of times before.  
"But if you're like, busy, you don't have to," I continued.   
"I'd love to," Harry said, voice soft, "I'll come right over."  
I smiled.   
"Okay. I'll see you soon then," I said, "Bye, H."  
"Bye, Lou," he replied before hanging up.   
I grinned widely.   
It was a good normal. I wondered when the last time he and I had just hung out was. Probably even before the Taylor thing, I figured. Longer, maybe.   
But then twenty minutes passed and my heart started to speed up. The last time Harry and I had been alone together had been when we had lived together. Specifically, when he had told me that he was moving out. So, not good memories. I paced restlessly.   
Suppose he didn't come? What if he decided I wasn't worth his time?  
I anxiously started some tea, the kind he liked, and set out a bunch of different snacks. It felt off to me. Harry usually made his own tea and went through my cupboards without asking when he came over. Setting out food for him felt forced but I thought I should do it to be polite.  
I was about to cry and give up on him coming when I heard a knock, his knock, on my door.   
I nearly fell over in my kitchen. I scrambled out and went to the door. I stood in front of it for a moment, collecting myself.   
Just Harry, I told myself, he was your best friend.  
The word 'was' was the tricky part of it. That's why I was so anxious.   
I breathed out heavily and opened the door.   
Almost immediately, he was throwing himself at me, wrapping me up in a tight hug.   
"Hi!" he said.  
He sounded entirely too happy, too normal. He hugged me like he was greeting any of his other friends. Like I wasn't anything special to him.   
The thought settled unpleasantly in the bottom of my stomach.  
I hugged him back though, not one to pass up the opportunity.   
It probably was a little bit too long of a hug to be considered normal and we both hesitated to pull away. He was warm and I was always cold. It felt nice.   
He cleared his throat when we seperated and I almost smirked at how pink his cheeks were, a light flush spreading down his neck. I didn't say anything. I didn't know if I was allowed.   
"I brought this," he said quickly, clearing his throat again.   
He handed me a plastic container and when I opened it, I was hit by the sweet smell of cinnamon. Biscuits.   
He shrugged when I grinned at him, any hopes of his blush fading out the window.   
"Styles, you're the best," I said, reaching for one and taking a bite.   
I moaned exaggeratingly and he almost went red, biting at the inside of his cheek. I felt guilty.   
"You gonna let me in or are we just going to stand in your doorway for forever?" he finally asked.  
I snorted and stood aside to let him toe off his hideous boots.   
It was almost easy from there, frighteningly so. We talked around the heavy weight between us, bantering back and forth and making fun of shit shows. It was a strange kind of vertigo, normal but everything but normal.   
He made me laugh so hard that I almost cried and then I almost really cried because he was making me laugh.   
Harry knew me better than I knew myself and he caught on to my change of emotions.   
"Louis?" he asked.   
He didn't prompt me any more than that.   
I tried to shuffle away from him on the sofa. We were alreay a decent space apart but I felt too hot all of a sudden. The corners of his mouth twitched down as he noticed.   
"We need to talk. We know that. That's the whole purpose of you being here, innit? Not this...bantering around. Serious talk," I mumbled.   
"Yeah," he agreed, twisting his fingers together.   
My throat closed up with the weight of everything I had to tell him. He stared at me, always so intense.   
"So. I'm in love with you. You know that. I...I never told you because I didn't want you to make thing a weird. I love you a whole lot Louis and not just because I'm in love with you. I love you the way I love Niall or Zayn or Nick but I'm in love with you too. Can't we just...forget that?" he blurted, twisting a ring around his finger.   
"No," I sighed.   
Harry made a little dejected noise. He didn't sound surprised though.  
"I'm never going to forget that, Harry. Fuck, you wanted to die because of it! How to you think I'm supposed to just forget like it's no big deal? It's a pretty big fucking deal!" I snapped.   
"I know. I know. You'll never look at me, never touch me without thinking 'he's in love with me' first. It's not...Christ. I'm really fucking in love with you and it's not gonna go away soon. I reckon I'll always be in love with you, even just a bit. But it's not some kind of fucking disease, Louis! I've been in love with you for so long and I just want to go back to how it was before you knew, okay? You can treat me the same you used to! I want us to be the same!" Harry barked.   
"You want me to shove my girlfriend in your face? You want me to call us bullshit or fucking...fucking USE you? Call you an attention whore? Yell at you for doing nothing wrong? Avoid you in public so there won't be any gay rumors? I'm not fucking doing that, okay? Not...not fucking doing it!" I snarled furiously, angry tears springing to my eyes.   
I wiped at them angrily but the look on Harry's face made me stop.   
"Louis," he groaned, wrapping his fingers in his own hair and pulling at it, "Jesus, you know that's not what I meant! You're being difficult. I want to be friends with you. I want to love you and try to push past the fact that I'm in love with you too. I love you too much to just let you go. I want to be friends like we used to. Like we were ten minutes ago. So maybe if we cuddle it might get me hard but you are very attractive and it wouldn't be the first time."   
Harry's mouth twitched into a little smile. I tried to return it.   
He reached out and grabbed my hand, rubbing his thumb across the back.  
"Hey," he said softly, "I'm here. I'm okay. I want you to be okay too and I want to be friends again. I love you too much to lose you, okay? I'm sorry for leaving and I'm sorry for what I did to you. But I'm here now and I'm not leaving again."  
I nodded, letting him nearly suffocate me in a hug.   
"I did stupid things while you were gone. Drank. Slept about an hour of two a night. Tried to get a guy to fuck me," I said, "You make me do stupid things when you're not here. If you dare leave me again..."  
"As long as you promise not to leave me," Harry interrupted.   
"I promise," I said, "I love you a whole lot too."   
He smiled, almost like relief.   
"I'm so sorry for everything I said and did when I came back," he murmured, "I hate myself for it and I don't know if I can forgive myself."  
I snorted.   
"H, I'm the bigger arse between us. So I drank a lot. You tried to fucking kill yourself," I muttered, "The guilt's a huge part of it. I can't swallow around it, knowing I've done this to you."  
"Louis, you didn't know. You couldn't have done anything," Harry said quickly.  
"Harry, I'd do anything for you, okay? Just let me hate myself for what I've already done," I snapped.   
I traced a finger over the bumps of his scars, too many to count.   
"I always wondered what had to be going through your head to do that. And to want to kill yourself. But standing on some bridge in some city when I was gone, I understood. I get it now. Maybe that's why I was able to heal a little. I understand," I said.   
Harry grimaced, a full-body shudder.  
"I don't like to think about you thinking things like that," he growled.   
"Well, I don't like you thinking things like that," I retorted.   
"Point taken," he replied easily, "So to summarize this discussion, I love you and you love me. We want to be friends. We were both dicks to each other but that's in the past."   
I nodded.   
There was more to talk about, more to share with each other, but we were done with the seriousness.   
Halfway through some black and white romance movie, I found myself laying in his lap, his fingers twisting through my hair. He didn't look away from the screen when I squirmed and grumbled about it.   
I heard him cackle quietly and when I tried to dislodge his fingers, he held on. I shrieked indignantly and tried to get him to let go.   
"Can't help it. Think I'm stuck," he teased.   
"Christ, you know I'll do anything for you, but I dunno if cutting my hair off to detach your hand falls under that. That might be a little too much for me," I joked.  
He threw his head back and laughed.  
He unceremoniously dumped me on the floor and I squawked.   
"You bastard!" I laughed.   
Laughing was good, I decided. I could laugh a lot with him.   
I debated trying to pull him on the floor with me but I figured it would be too much too soon. I grumbled and sat back on the couch, poking him with my cold toes.   
He stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes.  
"Attractive," I snorted.   
"Please. You're way more attractive," he replied.  
I swallowed hard and fought to keep the effortless smile on my face. He caught it but he didn't say anything. He just grabbed for my hand again and placed a sloppy kiss on my knuckles.   
It was a lot for just deciding to try and be friends again but I couldn't help but like it.   
It was okay because we were friends.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry's POV

What Louis and I had was weird.   
It varied depending on how we felt each day. Sometimes he edged away when I put my arm around him and sometimes he leaned into it, every bit like the Louis I'd always known.   
During a break one of our rehearsals, he dragged me out into the hallway, hand clamping down hard on my wrist.   
"I just need to breathe," he said quietly before throwing his arms around me and hugging me tightly.   
"I know," I replied and that was really all I could say.   
I really did know. I'd gotten time to get used to everything after is gotten out of rehab. I'd gotten even longer because Louis had left. He was okay, but it was all happening quickly for him. Even I wasn't used to the fans again quite yet. He was allowed breaks when he needed them and he wasn't pushed to do anything beyond what he was completely comfortable with. It was nice, how our management was letting he and I have a form of control over what we did.   
I could feel his heart fluttering against my chest.   
"Hey, we can stop if you need to," I said, "You can go home."  
He sighed, long and shaky.   
"I've been talking. With my um, therapist," Louis started.  
He'd never explicitly mentioned his therapist before. He saw him three times a week but he'd never talked about it.   
"Like...you're really important to me, yeah? You've gotta...gotta take care of me, okay? I can't like, do this without you. You need to...you know I don't like to seem like, weak or whatever. You need to help me," he mumbled, voice small and shy, "I'm good, I think. Right now. I just need...I need you? Like, if you know I'm getting overwhelmed, can you like, make me stop?"   
He all but shrank in my arms, unaccustomed to being so open.   
"Of course, Louis. You can talk to me too, you know. You can't do this by yourself but neither can I," I said.   
Louis nodded.   
We stood in silence, the only sounds being his careful, meditative breathing.   
The door to the rehearsing studio opened and Zayn stuck his head out.  
Louis jolted and wrenched away from me. He ran his fingers through his still uneven hair and shoved past Zayn.   
His affection towards me was usually reserved to private moments in hallways or in his house. I wasn't sure why he wasn't comfortable hugging me around the others but I went along with it.   
"Is he okay?" Zayn murmured.   
I shrugged.  
"I think so. He's just...it's a lot for him, even just rehearsing. He needs to breathe sometimes," I said.   
Zayn nodded.   
"You okay?" he asked.  
"Yeah. Just worried, really," I sighed.  
He nodded again.  
"It's easy to forget about yourself when you're worrying about somebody else. You can't afford to do that, Harry," he warned.   
"I know," I said.   
Zayn stared at me for several long seconds before turning back and holding the door open for me as we returned to rehearsal.   
Louis was never loud, never the life of everything like he had used to be. Everybody tried to talk louder, laugh more to make up for the absence of his voice, even if they did it unconsciously.   
Louis stood in the corner quietly, observing as Niall poured a bottle of water on Liam's head, the corners of his mouth only quirking up slightly at Liam's yelp.   
He looked tiny, swimming in a shirt that had used to fit him perfectly. His arms were crossed over his chest and his choppy hair fell into his face. I'd never seen him look so young before. I'd never seen him look so old before.   
I wasn't sure if he wanted me to go over to him or not. I was saved from the decision by him padding over to me, pressing against my side.   
"You should...you should come home with me," Louis murmured.   
I considered it. I wasn't sure if Felix had any plans or if he wanted me to watch Addy. I decided to text him to tell him that I wouldn't be available.   
"Okay," I agreed.   
Within the next hour, we decided to call it quits. Louis looked increasingly stressed and uncomfortable, staring at the ground and looking like he was going to cry when he simply tripped over the words in a song, and I knew that he was done.   
We left separately, but we got to his house at the same time.   
He immediately tugged me inside and threw his arms around me again.   
Ever since we had established that we wanted to be friends, Louis had gotten clingy, for lack of a better word. I didn't mind it, I loved him being close to me, but I knew that the boys found it strange. He always managed to find a way to press himself against me, like he needed to always be touching me.   
I knew that I was like his security blanket or like a weight keeping him tethered to the ground. He'd mumbled once that I made him feel safe and that he felt like he wouldn't get hurt if I was near him.  
Which, truly, was pretty stupid. I'd hurt him more than anybody. I didn't understand how his mind worked but neither did he, so.   
I ended up cooking for him. He didn't say anything, but his presence was loud enough.   
He perched on the counter, swinging his legs and drumming his heels against the side.   
No matter how much time I spent with him, his quietness always made me slightly uncomfortable.   
Louis just wasn't a quite person. He talked loudly, he laughed loudly, he lived loudly. His presence was always noticeable even before he walked into a room. He was always independent and the times he let his guard down were few and very far between.   
I had to turn around to make sure he was still there when he stopped kicking the counter.   
It was just weird and it threw everything off. We hadn't done an interview since the one before he and I had fought, but I knew that when we inevitably did, everybody would be able to see the difference in him. Even before he'd left they'd been able to; I had seen posts and tweets regarding his weird behavior.   
I put the food on two plates and motioned to him to get off the counter and sit in an actual chair.   
He even ate quietly. Every so often his fork would scrape the plate or his mouth would make a little smacking noise but that was about it.   
He knew how it worked with us. I wouldn't let him move until he ate everything and I knew that if I so much left a crumb, he'd fix me with a heavy glare until I ate it.   
He picked at his food, eating small amounts at a time, but he finished eventually and looked up at me expectantly. I cleaned up the kitchen and put all of our dishes in his dishwasher.   
A few minutes later, he was all but crawling into my lap in his bed. I'd figured out that he was always, always completely exhausted after rehearsal and I had to carry him to bed any time we were in any other room. His television was on but I wasn't paying attention.   
Zayn was smart and I had to give him credit. It was easy to forget about myself when I had Louis relying on me like he did.   
At the same time, it hurt still. Louis wasn't making it easy, always needing to be so close to me. I knew that he wouldn't stop me if I tried to take advantage of him being so weak and open and it scared me. In his mind, he needed me so badly that he couldn't refuse me in the fear that he could lose me if he did. I'd never try to take advantage of him, but it was absolutely terrifying to me that he wouldn't even TRY to stop me if I did. I didn't know what to do. I needed him to see that his dependence on me wasn't healthy and it wouldn't lead anywhere good. I couldn't refuse him though, the same way he couldn't refuse me.   
I was fiercely protective of him and I was so, so in love still. It made my head swim and there were times when it almost became too much. Almost.   
I barely repressed a shiver as his fingers started to trace the scars on my wrist. I saw him looking at them from time to time but he'd never said anything about them. Most of them were still prominent, almost like they had just healed. I'd cut deep when I'd tried to kill myself and I'd layered cuts over old ones, so many that there was hardly any visible skin around them. I didn't remember most of it, which was probably a good thing. Most of the cuts had been deep enough that the scars would probably never completely go away.   
He was about halfway down my wrist, fingers light and careful.  
"Do you ever still want to?" he asked.   
I jumped slightly, not expecting him to speak.   
"Hmm?" I asked.   
"Do you ever still want to cut?" he murmured.   
It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying when his fingers were sending little bolts of lightning through me.   
"Yeah," I managed, my voice only wavering a little bit, "All the time. Quitting cold-turkey, it's hard. It's an addiction. I did it so much, months before you even found out. I depended on it. If I'm ever stressed out or upset, it's still the first thing my mind turns to. The only difference is that I don't do it even when my mind tell me I need it."  
He nodded, his thumb pressing into the big vertical scars.   
"Can you stop?" I blurted, probably a little too aggressively.   
Louis immediately stopped touching me. He stopped touching me anywhere. He scrambled as far away from me on the bed as he could get.   
"I didn't mean..," I sighed, "Get over here, you tit."  
I sat up and all but dragged him back. He sprawled out on top of me and he laughed in my ear, all quiet and breathy-like.   
He situated himself so that he was essentially straddling me, his eyes bright as he looked at me.   
I swallowed hard and almost choked with how dry my mouth had gone.   
The teenager in me was very, very aware of the pressure of his arse on my crotch. Very aware. I was closer to twenty than eighteen and I had about the same amount of control that a hormonal adolescent did.  
"I'm sorry," Louis whispered.   
I supposed that I could be thankful that he was completely still and not squirming around.   
It would have been so easy to kiss him. He was so close that his hair tickled the sides of my face. His nose couldn't have been more than half a centimeter away from mine.  
"S'okay. Just...I can only handle so much," I rasped.   
How he was situated right then was beyond way too much.   
Louis nodded.   
It occurred to me that if anybody were to walk in, not that anybody would, Louis' house was very secure, they would never believe us if we tried to tell them that it was a completely platonic position.   
For him, it really was.   
For me, not so much.   
He didn't say anything, just looked at me and didn't move a muscle. I concentrated on trying not to get hard. It was very pathetic. It was also a lost cause.   
"Louis, you gotta, um, get off of me," I croaked.  
I wondered if he could feel the minute twitch of my hips when he leaned back on his knees.   
He closed his eyes and swung his leg over so that he wasn't on top of me.   
"I'm sorry," he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time in the week, "Shit, I'm so selfish. I forget...how you feel about me."  
Louis balled his hands into fists and rubbed at his eyes.   
"Louis, listen. I don't want you to always be thinking about it when we're together. I want us to be friends and if you're always afraid to act normally with me because of it, we've got to figure something out," I sighed.   
He sat up nodded, hands still digging into his eyes. When he took them away, I noticed that his eyes looked suspiciously shiny.   
"I know you're afraid, Louis. Don't you know that I'm scared too? Nearly a year ago, I thought I'd not even be alive right now! I didn't want to be alive for months and finally I couldn't stand the thought of living! Don't you think that scares me too, knowing how easy it would be to go back to that point? It's easy, Louis, to relapse. That's why we've got to fight it, okay? You too. You've got to fight this," I said, tapping the side of his head, "You used to be the strongest, most stubborn person I knew. You still are; you're still Louis. You've just got to find that again."  
He squeezed his eyes shut and tears leaked out and slid down his face.   
"You have to want to find that again."

Louis' POV 

It was hard to explain, my dependency on Harry. Part of me thought that if I let him out of my sight, I'd lose him forever. And he made me feel safe and warm.   
It did scare me, how much I needed him. I'd been a fairly independent person my entire life and I'd always been the one watching out for others instead of the other way around.   
But with Harry, it didn't seem to matter what I was used to. I couldn't even try to keep my guard up around him. Half of the time I would be talking and not know what I was saying until I was halfway through and had already said too much.   
Management released dates for the rescheduled tour, confident that I would be better by the time it started. It was three months away and it seemed too soon.   
I didn't want to say anything. Everyone celebrated and high-fived and the fans flipped their shit on twitter. I couldn't ruin it.   
I told Harry. He told me I was an idiot.   
"Louis, you know that your health and safety is the most important thing to any of us right now. Christ, if you don't think you'll be ready, why didn't you say anything?" he snapped, looking more agitated than I'd seen him in a while.  
"Your health is just as important," I mumbled.   
"Don't try and avoid the question, Louis. I know you're just trying to make everyone happy, but will they be happy four months from now when you've started drinking again and you have another mental breakdown?" Harry hissed, "What if you can't recover a second time? What if instead of going on tour, we spend all of our time visiting you at some fucking mental hospital? I couldn't take that, Louis!"   
He stepped away from me and I shivered with the sudden loss of his warmth.   
I was suddenly aware of how tall he was. He towered over me, his expression dark and threatening.   
I shrank back, hating that I cowered like a kicked puppy.   
Harry's face softened but his eyes stayed hard.   
"Louis, listen. You...you know I love you and that I'm in love with you but you don't know how much you mean to me. I can't... If I had to watch you go through that again, Louis, I don't think I could. You- you were so sick and I just can't...you can't know how it felt to see you act like...like you were fucking insane or something. Please, Louis, don't make me go through that again," he said urgently, "I didn't know what was wrong and everybody was saying that it was my fault and I just wanted to help you but they wouldn't let me and Louis, you know I'm not gonna hurt you, right? Like, I'd never do that to you, I swear!"   
He seemed so distraught and helpless. I didn't know what to say to help him.   
"Harry," I said quietly, "I'm okay now."  
Harry made a little noise and buried his face in my neck, scrunching down to make himself smaller. His breath shuddered and his shoulders shook and I realized that he was crying.   
I had no idea what to do. I'd gotten used to him taking care of me and when the roles reversed, I was lost.   
"I'm here," I said dumbly, "I'm okay."  
Harry only tightened his arms around my waist, making me wheeze.   
"Christ, H, I'm okay," I insisted, half-laughing.  
He made another helpless noise and choked out another sob.  
I didn't know why, but I felt good all of a sudden.   
I laughed for real, pulling at him to get him to detach himself from me. I leaned my forehead on his and grinned. His eyes were red and his expression wasn't something I ever wanted to see again, but I laughed anyways.  
"I'm okay!" I cackled, "We've had all this shit and we're okay!"   
I swung him around and nearly toppled over.   
"Fuck, H, I'm scared for the tour, but I'll say anything if I'm not comfortable, okay? We're okay, we're okay, we're okay!" I yelled, stumbling away from him and spinning in a circle.   
Harry stood and watched me, a small, bemused smile on his face. I had a feeling that he was wondering if he needed to call somebody.   
"C'mon," I insisted, and I pulled him towards me.  
"Are you okay?" he asked.   
"Peachy," I snorted, tugging him through my house and outside.   
I ran a circle around my yard, feeling absolutely wonderful.   
Harry watched me and caught me around my waist on my third lap.   
"What's gotten into you?" he asked.  
"I just feel okay," I laughed.  
He nodded.   
And then he was laughing too. We laughed until he was crying in a good way and I had to flop down onto the grass because I just couldn't stand anymore.   
He dug his thumbs into my sides and I shrieked, fighting against him and finally threatening to piss on everything he loved if he didn't stop tickling me.   
As suddenly as I had started to laugh, we stopped.   
It wasn't very warm out; it was the beginning of November. I felt hot though, physically exhausted from laughing so hard.   
I wriggled closer to him and rolled onto my side, grinning at him. He was close.   
I watched his eyes flick to my mouth for the tiniest fraction of a second and he flushed when he saw me looking back.   
For once, he didn't say anything.   
Eventually, Harry sighed and grabbed my wrist. He traced over the tattoo in nearly the same exact way that I had his scars.   
"Why'd you do this?" he asked quietly.   
"I was hungover and I wanted to get a tattoo for you. And I liked it, the idea of it. I still do. It's my favorite tattoo, you know," I said.  
Harry smiled.   
"Maybe I'll get one for you. Some deep thing, something nobody will ever be able to figure out what it means," he said.  
"Get an itty bitty little bottle," I snorted.   
He frowned.  
"Or some shit hipster quote, whatever works for you," I sighed.   
He grinned, big and Harry-like.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry's POV

I woke up with Louis curled around me for the third morning in a row. His hair was in my mouth and I spat it out as quietly and gracefully as I could. I knew that he wouldn't wake up if I was a little too loud. He'd been sleeping longer and more deeply since rehearsals had started.   
The first time he'd slept for more than four hours, he'd called me excitedly, tripping over his words in enthusiasm.   
When he'd slept for eight, I'd been there to wake up to his blinding grin.   
He slept longer than me some nights. He always looked so pleasantly surprised whenever he saw that I was already awake.   
I loved waking up before him. I could hold him as close as I wanted and press little kisses into his hair and on his forehead. Felix reminded me daily not to convince myself that Louis might have feelings for me and I did try really, really hard. I really didn't think that he had feelings for me. I knew that it was me that was the problem. I had enough 'feelings' for the both of us.   
As time wore on and Louis slowly but surely started to regain a sense of himself, he still clung to me. It was different though. In the beginning, he had been so desperate for my attention, literally clinging to me. It was slowly turning into how we had been during the X-Factor. He was still always close to me, but he didn't always look like being away from me would kill him.  
I could see the liveliness coming back into him, albeit much more subdued. He usually reserved it just for me.   
I was always careful to watch him when he took his medicine in the morning and afternoon rehearsals, at night when I was at his house.   
I knew that the medication had a big hand in helping him, as well as his therapist. I had no idea what they ever talked about that helped him so much or even what his meds were supposed to do, which I probably should have, but I never asked. I wasn't really worried that he would overdose, intentionally or not, but it was always a little fear in the back of my mind.   
Louis stirred, his eyes blinking open sleepily. His mouth quirked up into a little smile when he saw me looking back at him and he shut his eyes again, shifting closer.  
"Warm," he mumbled.   
Sometimes Louis slept with a shirt on and sometimes he didn't. It was one of the times that he didn't and his chest really was very warm against mine. I knew that I was flushing like I always did when I had him so close.   
I let him go back to sleep for a while before I tried to untangle myself and get up. Despite my best attempt at not waking him up, he did, scowling half-heartedly.   
"Make me breakfast," he demanded.  
"Cereal?"   
"Yes."

Liam's POV 

I wasn't sure whether to be concerned or relieved.   
On one hand, Louis was smiling a little more, speaking up in conversations, albeit quietly.   
On the other, he was clinging to Harry, always following him around and looking panicked if Harry left him for a moment. I wasn't sure it was healthy. It definetely wasn't healthy. He was so dependent on Harry and I wasn't sure what to do with it. Harry didn't seem like he minded, but I knew that Louis' constant presence had to be overwhelming.   
Besides the obvious hurt that Harry had to be feeling, he was under a lot of pressure. If he said the wrong thing, if he snapped at Louis even slightly, Louis probably wouldn't take it well. He was already on fragile ground.   
He just looked so content with Harry, like he might be able to fix himself just by using Harry as a crutch. I was worried about what happened once Louis didn't need Harry anymore.   
I wondered if that would ever happen.   
I just couldn't make up my mind on how I felt about it. I watched them during rehearsal one day. Harry was always hyper-aware of Louis. If Louis gave the slightest hint of being uncomfortable, Harry would ask for a break and pull him into a corner to talk. I noticed how much more relaxed Louis was when he was speaking to Harry. He didn't look nearly so guarded and shy.   
We all jumped when we heard Louis shriek in the hallway. I was halfway to the door to see if he was okay with Zayn right behind me, when Harry burst through the door with Louis on his back.   
Louis was clinging to him for dear life but what was even weirder was that he was laughing.   
"Styles, put me down, you fucking monster!" he demanded, his face flushed from laughing.   
Harry spun in a circle.  
He didn't quite manage it and tripped, causing both of them to collapse on the floor, giggling hysterically.   
"You're face," Harry cackled, "When I-"  
"I'll-" Louis started.   
"Piss on everything I love, I know," Harry finished, which set them off again.   
Zayn cleared his throat and Louis jolted, scampering to his feet. Any trace of laughter faded from his face and I wanted to kick Zayn for ruining it.   
There was an awkward little silence as Harry stood up.   
"Is it a crime to have fun or something?" he asked quietly, his tone defensive.   
Louis shuffled closer, pressing his side against Harry's arm.   
"No, no, mate. It's just unusual, you know?" I tried.   
Louis' face fell even more.   
"Well I'm sorry that I can't be happy all the time, Liam!" he snapped.   
He pushed away from Harry and stormed out of the door they had come through.   
Harry stared at all of us and sighed heavily.   
"You know he doesn't like to be stared at or be the center of attention and he doesn't like to be reminded that he's not okay. God, why am I the one that has to remind you of that? Treat him normally, don't make him feel like he's some kind of freak!" he snapped.   
He started to go after Louis.   
"Wait, Harry," I said wearily.   
He stopped and turned around, his eyes dark.   
"Is he um, getting better?" I asked.   
"I don't know, Liam, why don't you ask him yourself? Just because he doesn't come up to you doesn't mean you can just pretend he doesn't exist and never speak to him," Harry hissed, "I'm sick of being his only friend and you all just sitting back and watching him when he needs you too!"  
With that, he pushed through the door and I figured that Louis was sitting right outside, because I heard Harry's voice soften and get more gentle, coaxing Louis to come back in.   
"Well, I feel like shit," Zayn sighed. "I don't know what to think. Louis acts like he doesn't want us to be around him but Harry's making it seem like he does," I muttered.   
"It kind of is unfair though. Like, Harry loves Louis and I think he really likes that Louis is around him, but it's unfair to both of them that Harry's acting like his only friend," Niall said, "Louis' fragile and we're being cowards because we don't want to hurt him but we're hurting him doing this."  
"You done talking about me?" Louis mumbled, coming back in, "Regardless, we're leaving."  
Harry had a firm arm around his waist, leading him to where their stuff was put together.   
He murmured something in Louis' ear and made him smile. It reminded me so much of how they had been in the beginning, on the X-Factor. Even as close as they had been then, the smile they shared seemed more intimate somehow.  
Something twisted in my stomach.   
I brushed it off. I didn't want to think about what was going on between them. I knew it was nothing anyways. Louis was attached to him and Harry was in love with him but he'd never dare to do anything about it, not after everything that had happened. He was pleased to have Louis in any way at all. Sometimes I could see the way he tensed up when Louis pressed close to him and then the sadness when he pulled away. Harry was still hurting and he knew he probably would be for a long time but he was handling it better.   
I watched them leave, heads bent together as they talked quietly.   
I didn't know if they went home together or not.  
The next time I saw them was our first interview since Louis had disappeared.   
It was a week after the rehearsal. We hadn't had any since then because we really didn't need to have one.   
I guessed that management had spoken to Louis and asked if he was okay with an interview and they had probably spoken with Harry as well.   
They knew that they had to talk about the video. Gossip magazines and websites wouldn't shut up about it and the only way to reassure people that the band was in fact not breaking up was to tell them ourselves.   
Harry got there first and Louis came in about five minutes later. He immediately gravitated to Harry's side.   
Harry acknowledged him with a gentle nudge to Louis' hip but he kept talking to one of the technicians of the show we were going to be on.   
"Hey, Louis," Niall said.   
Louis turned around, looking almost surprised to have been spoken to. He gave Niall a small, careful smile and I watched as he pressed himself even harder against Harry's side. Harry glanced down at Louis, then at us, and then looked back at the technician.   
Louis looked afraid of us and it made me feel sick and angry.   
It was stupid to me, that Harry was the only one that Louis really trusted and he was also the one that had fucked Louis over in the first place.   
It wasn't jealousy, but I hated that I had been there for Louis while Harry had been gone and had tried everything I could think of to help him, but he couldn't trust me. He was afraid of me.   
"C'mon over here," I said, as gently as I could muster.   
Louis hesitated, but Harry knocked his fingers against Louis' in a subtle 'go ahead' gesture.   
Louis carefully came towards us, his arms crossed tightly against his chest.   
"Hi," he said quietly, coming to a stop several feet away from us.   
He looked me in the eyes. I counted it as a victory.   
"What's up, Lou?" Niall asked.   
Louis shrugged.   
He really wasn't helping in making the conversation any less awkward.   
He glanced over at Harry helplessly.  
"Ready for this?" I tried.   
He shrugged again and then sighed.   
"Not really. I don't like being told what to say," he muttered.   
"I know," I replied.   
We had basically been given a script to memorize for the interview. I knew that it was for our own good but I still hated lying and I knew that Louis really hated having his leash tightened and force-fed lines to say. And they really did have to force him on occasion, when he really didn't want to say something or was feeling especially stubborn.   
"You know why though," I said.   
"Of course I know why!" he snapped, then shook his head irritably, "The fans'll know we're lying anyways. They always do."  
Harry came over and nudged Louis carefully. Louis looked up and it was weird, the way he seemed to relax. I supposed that he had felt alone and cornered without Harry by his side.   
"Hi!" he said, but he didn't look away from Louis.  
He was studying him, assessing him. He bent down to whisper something into Louis' ear that earned him an eye roll.   
"Hi," Niall said, a fraction too late.  
Zayn appeared, having just walked in. He seemed vaguely surprised that we were all talking.   
"Sup, mate?" he asked Louis.   
"Nothing," Louis replied, "We have this shit interview."  
It was more of an answer than Niall and I had gotten.   
"Louis," Harry said quietly.   
Louis glared at him.   
"You didn't want to come either," he protested.   
"You don't know that," Harry said.   
"Yes, I do," Louis said, his eyes narrowing, "I know you."  
Harry made a weird noise, a bit of a cross between a sigh and a snort.   
"Anyways. I was thinking. We should all go out tonight or tomorrow or something? We haven't hung out as a group in ages," Zayn said, "Yeah, Louis?"  
I had to admit, I admired his nerve.   
Louis balked.   
He didn't say anything, just twisted the sleeves of his shirt around his fingers and stared resolutely at the ground.   
"Yeah, that'd be great," Harry said.  
Louis looked up at him sharply, his eyes wide.   
"That would be great. Wouldn't it, Louis?" Harry repeated firmly.   
I was pretty sure that Louis was going to hit him, but we got called to the set.   
Louis twitched when he saw the audience staring back at us.   
We took our seats. Louis and Harry weren't sitting next to each other, but it was intentionally. They were instructed to look at each other and smile 'secretly' to make it look like we weren't forcing them to be together by sitting them next to each other but not looking like they were being forced apart. Plus, everybody knew how much the fans read into it when they looked at each other. I was sitting between them. Harry leaned over so he was all but in my lap and gestured for Louis to do the same.   
With the screaming of the audience in my ears, I couldn't make out what they were saying, but it made them both smile as they pulled away.   
I tuned out the interviewer as he introduced himself and us.   
Then it hit me.   
Louis' thigh was touching mine.  
It was a weird thing to realize out of context, but it was the first time I had sat next to him in ages without him squirming or pushing himself as far away from me as he physically could.   
I couldn't help but give Harry a startled look because whatever he was doing to Louis had to be magic. Louis didn't even seem to notice that he was touching somebody else.   
He was leaning away from me just a bit, but only because he was resting his elbow against the arm of the sofa.   
I had to give him credit; he was good at acting. His eyes were wide and alert, like he was actually excited for the interview and cared about what the interviewer was saying.   
Then, eventually, "So a few months ago, there was this video taken. I assume you know which one?"   
We all nodded. Louis' jaw tightened just slightly.   
"What happened there? Everyone's been dying to know," the interviewer pressed.   
Louis sighed heavily.   
"Yeah. We've heard all the rumors, that we're breaking up, that Harry and I hate each other, that the whole band is just a mess," he said, "It's not true. None of it."  
Harry put his arm around me and stretched slightly so that his fingers pressed into the side of Louis' neck. It was an intentional move. He knew that the fans would see it and read into it.   
"It's...it was complicated. Obviously," Louis snorted, "To put it simply, Harry and I weren't getting along very well. I think I should make it clear that we've never hated each other. We were friends. He's still one of my best friends. It's just...God, I don't even know how to explain it."   
He paused for a moment, chewing on his lip.   
"It's hard to understand, coming from a position that isn't mine. Or any of ours. Watching somebody, your best friend, deteriorate and then try to kill himself and then waking up screaming because they didn't succeed...it's hard. It messes with you. And then the whole rehab process, seeing him once a week at best...he didn't talk to us, to anybody but his mum, for months. That messes with you. We've shared years of each other's lives, the whole band, and we know each other better than anything but all of a sudden, I had no idea who the hell was sitting in front of me. And then I would have to go home and not be able to sleep because my mind wouldn't shut up and I was confused and hurt and angry and scared and every emotion I could possibly feel."   
Louis' voice was shaking. It was hard for him, saying everything out loud in front of everyone. The worst part was that most of it was true.   
"This is kind of a long explanation, so hopefully you're bearing with me," he said, his mouth twitching into a sarcastic smile, "Anyways. I had to deal with that for six months. I slept, I don't know, what was it lads? Two or three hours a night at best?"  
Harry's hand was still on Louis, gently stroking his neck. I had a feeling that it was how Louis was able to keep talking.   
"And then I came home," Harry said quietly, "And it got bad."  
"Worse," Louis agreed, "We lived together for a bit. He wasn't allowed to live by himself so I volunteered. Like I said, I didn't understand him anymore. It was like living with a stranger."  
"We had stupid fights about everything," Harry added, "We were completely different people and it was weird and we didn't know how to deal with it. Instead of sitting down and talking about it like normal people, we just fought."   
"About everything," Louis said, "It wasn't ideal for either of us. He'd just gotten out of rehab and I was hardly emotionally stable. So he moved out."  
"We didn't talk much after that. We bickered when we were around each other and that interview, um. We'd fought about something stupid right before and I was being mean and picking on him during the interview and backstage, we both just...lost it, I guess," Harry sighed, "It had been escalating and getting worse and we snapped."  
"I genuinely don't remember anything. Just one second, I pushed you because you pushed me and the next I was on the ground. And it...I hate saying it. But I was so mentally not there, I guess, and that was just like my breaking point. So I left for a few weeks just to give us some space and I came back and yeah," Louis said quietly.   
Harry leaned back behind me. Louis covered his microphone and tilted his head.   
"You okay?" Harry murmured.   
Louis nodded quickly and give him a small smile. Harry moved back.   
"And then when I came back...it wasn't really okay at first. Not completely. But we lean on each other a lot now. I do, at least. Dunno what I'd do without him, actually. It's kind of scary, coming back into the real world after my mind decided to destroy itself. And Harry knows what that's like. So. Yeah. We're good now," Louis said carefully.   
"Very," Harry added.   
The rest of the interview passed easily. Louis was getting restless by the end.   
When the cameras stopped recording and we shook hands with the interviewer, Louis immediately found Harry and started talking to him quickly and quietly.   
I could hear the fans screaming behind us and I knew that they wanted us to say hi but i knew that Louis wasn't going to and that Harry was going to do whatever Louis did. Niall and Zayn were already making their way offstage.   
I waved at the fans before leaving.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry's POV

Louis was mad at me.   
In the beginning, he was just a bit irritated that I had told Zayn that we would hang out with them.  
But then I had told Louis that I already had plans with Felix, and that he would have to go with the boys without me.   
It was pathetically cute, the way he had pouted at me for a good hour before realizing that he wouldn't get his way. Then, in true Louis nature, he had kicked my shin and demanded that I leave him alone.   
I had a feeling that he might really have been a little mad at me.   
He was anxious about being alone with the boys. He didn't know what to say to them or how to act. He wanted me as a buffer.   
I had to admit, I really didn't have plans with Felix. I had told him that I would be staying home that night after Zayn had asked Louis and I to go out. I did want to hang out with them, but I had to think about Louis.   
He was furious, but I really did have his best interest at heart. I knew that he needed to start opening up with the boys too and I figured that forcing him to be alone with them would be the best option. He wouldn't have me to cling to and they would want to talk to him; he wouldn't be able to hide behind me.  
I wasn't trying to wean him off of me, but I knew Louis and I knew that the next step in him healing was to get his other friends back too.   
I'd made him call Stan once and throughout the conversation Louis had cried, laughed, gotten angry, and gotten horrifyingly quiet as he listened to Stan.   
But he'd smiled at me afterwards and thanked me for pushing him to do it.   
Still, he was mad at me.  
I returned to Felix's house, my house too, technically, and had a bit of a sulk.  
He just snorted at me and left the room to see why Addy was squealing.   
When he came back, he sat down on the sofa with me and pulled my feet onto his lap.   
"So, you think your little plan will actually work?" he asked.   
"I think so. I think Louis just needs a push every so often to get to where he needs to be," I said.   
"Speaking of him," Felix said, "You talk about him so much, babe. And you're gone so often with him, or with the band. You never tell me about you anymore. So enough about Louis or the boys or the fans. How are you?"   
He squeezed my knee gently.   
"I'm good," I sighed.   
Felix raised his eyebrows skeptically.   
"You're spending every day, hell, nearly every night with Louis, and you're telling me that you're good," he snorted, "I'm calling bullshit on that, H."  
"It's. Felix, it's like. God, it does hurt. It's like. I used to cut myself to make it stop hurting so much. But this is...this is like emotional self harm. But there's never any relief," I said quietly.   
"Babe, if you feel like this, then maybe you shouldn't-"  
"You don't get it, Felix!" I snapped, irrationally frustrated, "I can't just leave him. You know how it is more than anyone!"  
"Harry, you're not as emotionally strong-"  
"I don't fucking care!" I snarled, picking my legs up and off of him, "I love him first and I'm in love with him second. I love him too much to leave him, okay? It's not as bad as it was. I'm not going to fuck up again! I'm okay now! Just trust me for once, Jesus Christ!"   
"Alright," Felix said quietly, "Alright. I'm just worried about you. You know that. I'm always worrying about you."  
I shoved my hands in my hair and shook my head.   
"Just stop worrying, okay? I'm good. You know I am," I growled.   
"You're not, though! And I don't know if you have ever spoken to your friends about it, but I don't really want to join them in the club of finding you dying on the floor!" Felix snapped, "I know you think you're okay, Harry, but who knows what might happen in the future? What if you can't handle something again?"   
I blinked at him.   
"Felix, that's not going to happen," I said quietly, "I promise."  
"I bet you promised that to them before the first time too," he said.   
He wouldn't look at me. His knuckles were white as he gripped the knees of his jeans and his jaw ticked.   
"Felix," I sighed.   
I shifted closer and put my arms around him.   
"Felix," I repeated.   
He shook his head. His eyes looked suspiciously wet.   
"You don't know what it's like, Harry. You were so scared after rehab, that you'd go back to how you were before. I know you're not scared anymore, at least you don't think you are, but I still am. You don't know what it was like to have to hold you down to keep you from hurting yourself, or watch you cry yourself to sleep almost every night for months, or anything you ever said to me about wanting to die or throw up or hurt yourself. You can't ever understand what you've put me through or your family or your other friends. It sucks, seeing you like that, when all we want is you happy. I'm afraid for you now. I'm scared you won't notice that you're not okay again until it's too late, or that you'll pretend that you are when you aren't. I'm afraid that you're too concerned for Louis that you can't be concerned for yourself. Every time you say you're okay, I just remember all the shit I watched you go through during rehab and after it too. Just. Don't put us through that again, okay?" Felix blurted.   
I was stunned into silence.   
"Felix, I-"  
"Don't say you're sorry, Harry. You couldn't help it. Shit, I'm just trying to say that I'm worried about you and I don't want you to go down the wrong path again," he muttered.  
I looked down. I wondered when the scars on my wrist would fade. They still looked new to me. I didn't wear shorts because I didn't want to show the scars on my thighs. It would just show everyone how I had been more fucked up than had met the eye. It was weird. I could hardly remember what had gone through my mind in making them.   
It wasn't that I didn't still feel the urges. Louis would touch me and I'd have to move away sometimes because I would feel the faint itching in my veins. 'just once,' it seemed to say, 'just cut once and you'll feel better.'  
It was this whiny, grating voice that made me shiver every time.   
It was a horrible voice but it made me want to do it. I'd gotten good at shutting it out, but there were times where Felix would let me just shake against him until it went away. He'd hold me without moving, he wouldn't even rub my back to comfort me in fear of doing something wrong. He would just let me try to breathe against his neck and just shake. And it worked.   
"Harry."  
I looked up at Felix. My thumb stilled from where it was running across my scars.   
He looked tired. He was always taking care of people, whether it was me, or Addy, or even his parents after they had had a long day at work. He'd even tried to take care of Louis when I had been treating him badly.   
But the one person that Felix had a tendency to forget to take care of was himself. He never said a word about it, but spending almost every day with him clued me in.   
"You should go to sleep," I blurted.   
He looked mildly offended.  
"You look tired," I explained weakly.   
Felix sighed and shrugged. He made to stand up and then he paused.   
"I don't like fighting with you, Harry," he said quietly.   
I nodded, suddenly ashamed to meet his eyes.   
"But if I think that you're doing something that's doing more harm than good to you...Harry, I have to do something about it, okay?" he sighed.   
I didn't say anything. He seemed to know that I wouldn't. 

Liam's POV 

Choosing someplace to go was a little difficult. We huddled in my living room, trying to think of where we could go. There wasn't a whole lot of places that we could go where fans wouldn't bother us too much and we could hang out without it interrupting anything.   
Louis had himself tucked into a corner of a sofa, making himself as small as possible.   
The obvious choice was going out to get drinks but none of us said a word about it. We couldn't with Louis.   
He wasn't stupid though.   
"If you want to get a few pints or something, I won't stop you," he said softly, "I won't do anything."  
Zayn shook his head violently.   
"Don't really feel like it anyways," Niall said quickly.   
I nodded in agreement.  
"What do you want to do, Lou? You haven't said much," I tried.   
He shrugged, tightening his arms against his chest.   
"I don't care," he mumbled, "Whatever."  
We all looked at each other.   
"We could just stay in. Have a lad's night," I said.  
"Yeah. We could order takeaway, watch a movie or play FIFA or something," Niall agreed, "Zayn?"  
"Sounds fine to me," he said.  
We looked at Louis who shrank a little, but he shrugged.   
"Okay."  
We ordered Chinese and set up FIFA. I even witnessed Louis smile a little when Niall threw his controller after losing his first round.   
He spent most of the night quiet and in the background though, looking down at his phone ever few minutes and texting somebody.   
"Who're you talking to so much?" I asked.   
"Harry," Louis said, shifting a bit.   
I hadn't really expected him to say anybody else's name.   
"You still talk to Eleanor at all, mate?" Niall asked.   
Louis tensed, his eyes dropping to his lap. I decided that I was going to beat Niall for bringing it up.   
"No. She came over once, just to hear me out and clear things up but that was a while ago. It's not...I didn't expect to," Louis said, carefully looking up, "I don't really care. It's probably best."  
I decided that maybe I wouldn't beat Niall. He'd gotten Louis to say something that wasn't 'whatever' or 'I don't care'.   
"Right. What's Harry up too tonight anyways? I thought he was coming?" Zayn asked.  
Louis rolled his eyes.   
"He ditched me for Felix. Apparently they had some argument so I told him that he could come anyways but he said no," Louis said, making a face, "He just wants me to do something without him and not freak out over it."  
I stared at him.   
He was actually talking to us.   
Then I realized.   
Harry.   
Even just talking about him made Louis a tiny bit more confident. It was weird but it worked. I realized that I couldn't even begin to understand how their relationship worked.  
"If he thinks it's good for you, it probably is," Zayn said.   
Louis made another face.   
"I'd prefer him to be here and not blow me off though," he muttered.   
"A little time apart can be good," Niall said off-handedly, "  
"Yeah. I know," Louis said, albeit slightly defensively.   
"Do you...how much time do you guys spend together anyways? I'm curious," I asked.   
Louis shrugged and bit his lip.   
"He comes over a lot. At least every other day, if not more. He stays the night sometimes. I don't know," he said.   
The tips of his ears looked a bit pink as he ducked his head a little and I wondered if we were embarrassing him.   
"He stays the night?" Niall asked.   
"Yeah. Um. Just like, if he doesn't feel like leaving. We, ah, we sleep together. Not like that, but, um. Yeah," Louis said quickly and he was definetely getting flustered.   
"Together?" Niall laughed, wiggling his eyebrows.  
I expected Louis to get upset.   
He raised his eyes and smiled instead.   
"I said not like that," he said.   
"Bet you wanna," Niall teased.   
I tensed. Louis wouldn't put up with it, I was sure of it.   
He turned bright pink and looked the most embarrassed that I had ever seen. He shook his head violently, but he laughed too.   
I wondered what kind of powers Niall had.  
Zayn gave me a bemused look, evidentially just as surprised as I was.   
"No. We couldn't," Louis said lightly, picking at a loose thread on the pocket of his jeans.   
He had a small smile on his mouth and he looked so content and happy. It was amazing compared to not even ten minutes before.   
He still looked shy but it was a pleased kind of shy. Like he was realizing that we weren't as scary as he thought that we would be.   
Louis even played a game of FIFA. He didn't run around shouting like he would have in the past after he won but he did give a little fist pump and a small cheer.   
"Still got it, Lou!" Niall said.  
Niall was so at ease with him and I didn't understand how. I tried to be carefree and normal but I couldn't help staring at Louis, waiting for something to send him flying back into his shell.   
I couldn't tell how Zayn felt about it but he wasn't being quite as enthusiastic as Niall was. Then again, it wasn't in his character to be like that.   
Louis was intuitive, if anything. When I went to get a glass of water, I heard him come into the kitchen behind me.   
"Can we talk, Liam?" he asked quietly.   
I turned around, nearly spilling the water.   
"Yeah. Of course, Lou. What's wrong?" I asked.  
Louis shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing.  
"That's just it, though. You're waiting for something to go wrong. I've seen you watching me, Liam. You're anticipating it and I know you think it's a little tense but half of it is that you can't relax, okay? I- I don't know. I'm okay, you know. I'm. Shit, Liam, look. You've seen me hit rock bottom and I know you're scared of that happening again but it won't. I swear it won't. I'm happy again now. I mean, god, I'm still a little messed up, but please, I'm still Louis. Don't treat me differently. That's the best thing for me. Just don't ignore me because you think I don't want you around and don't be so fucking cautious. I know you're scared and I am too. So are Niall and Zayn and Harry and everyone. It's okay to be scared, you know? I'm fucking terrified because I know what I can do to myself. Harry's just as scared as me. But like. Shit," he babbled.  
I stared at him.   
I set the glass of water on a counter so I wouldn't drop it.   
"I, um, I realized the other day, I never really thanked you," he said quietly.   
"For what?" I said faintly.   
"It's funny, you know. I don't really remember all that happened when Harry was gone. It's really, really fuzzy, even the parts where I wasn't drunk. But I know that you took care of me the best you could. I couldn't appreciate it at the time; I couldn't even get out of bed most days. But I know you took away the alcohol and I think you held me a few times when I had nightmares and you put up with all of my shit plus your own and you had to listen to me say I wanted to die and look, I'm not good at these things, but thank you, Liam, okay? You were the first person that I touched intentionally after IT happened and you carried me up a flight of stairs when I was too tired to do it myself and you dragged me to and from Doncaster and you made sure I was as okay as I could be. I think, if you hadn't come as fast as you could, I'd have tried to kill myself after IT happened. I really do. Seriously. You didn't have to put up with me when I couldn't even put up with myself. You really, really didn't. So thank you," he said.   
I was dizzy.   
I hadn't heard Louis talk so much out of an interview since I could even remember.   
"You worked so hard to protect me and you were the first person I trusted after I came back. I don't want this...this awkward shit, okay? I don't deserve it and neither do you. Especially you," Louis added.   
"Louis," I said thickly.   
He understood and he smiled.   
"Got that, Liam Payne? I'm not saying it again. Now, come here," he said.  
I stepped forwards and bent down to hug him. It was so, so bizarre to actually touch him without him shrinking away.   
"Look, Niall and Zayn probably think we've drowned in your glass of water, so how about we stop being so fucking serious and go back out?" Louis said.  
I nodded, head still spinning under the weight of everything that he had said.   
When we got back, Louis simply sat down beside Zayn and put his feet in his lap, as if nothing had changed in the past year and a half.   
Zayn didn't appear to notice anything out of the ordinary, as if Louis hadn't arrived at my house as a tiny, skittish ball of nerves. It was a complete 180 to the Louis sprawled on my couch.   
Truthfully, I didn't know if it was because his meds had kicked in and he was more energetic and confident because of that.   
I didn't plan on pressing the issue.   
Niall spilled rice on my carpet and Louis laughed out loud, mocking him in only the way that Louis could.   
He was smiling, his face almost splitting with the stretch of it. He kicked his feet when he won another game and nearly hit Zayn's nuts. He really was okay. The relief was so immense that it almost physically hurt.   
His phone rang at a point and I knew immediatly who it was.   
His grin didn't fade so much as it softened. Harry.   
Louis answered without hesitating.   
"Hey," he said.   
He paused a second.   
"Yeah. M' still here. S'fun, yeah. Yes, I know, don't rub it in. Not like you can say the same," he chattered, stretching out a bit more and flexing his toes.   
Niall, Zayn and I were all pretending not to be completely focused on the conversation. I knew that none of us really understood the mystery that was Harry and Louis and we all wanted to solve it.   
Louis frowned suddenly.   
"You okay? Yeah, yeah. No, it's fine. We're just hanging out, H, you're not interrupting anything, really. Say hi, lads," Louis promptes.  
"Hi," we all chorused.   
Louis smiled again.   
"Harry says hi too," and then, "I wasn't going to say that, you tit. But yeah. Tonight? He won't mind? Right, yeah. You're okay? I'm just checking, relax. But you're okay is what I'm asking. Yes, I am. I can if you want. Or you could come here still. No, I understand. I can. Oh, shut the fuck up, Styles, I want to. Make yourself at home then, bastard. Um, I don't know. No, of course not! They're stupid about it too, you'll be good about it."  
It was just so interesting, watching Louis' face as he talked to Harry. He looked worried at a point, but then he softened again and the only word I could describe it with was content.   
"Liam, will you testify that there is no alcohol in my presence," Louis said, rolling his eyes.   
He held his phone out to me.  
"There is no alcohol in Louis' presence," I repeated.   
"I was just making sure, Liam," Harry said, his voice gravely over the phone, "I just need to know he's doing okay."  
"Perfectly okay. More than that," I said, "He's grabbing at the phone. Here, I'll give it back, hold on a second."  
Louis snatched it out of my hand, sticking his tongue out at me.  
For the quickest moment, I saw a little bit of worry in his eyes. He was still insecure, I realized. He was afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing around us, not sure where our boundaries were yet. He wasn't as relaxed as he came off.   
"Right, anyways. So, bring the- Yes! Do that. You've used it all. And pants this time, for god's sake. I know. You know I couldn't give a flying fuck. Your dick is your dick. The public might though."  
I snorted. I genuinely had no idea what they were talking about but it was amusing to listen to.   
Louis glanced at the clock on my wall and frowned.   
"I should- yeah. I know. You're really stupid sometimes. Good stupid, you know. Best stupid. Okay, okay. I'll see you when I get home? You know how- sure. Perfect. Alright. Love you, okay? Yeah. I'll see you. Bye."  
Louis hung up and looked at us.   
We'd all heard the 'love you'.   
I knew that they'd always used to end phone calls like that but that they had stopped long before Harry had tried to kill himself. I wondered when it had come back. I wondered what that meant.   
"So Harry and Felix had a little spat, they're fine, but Harry's staying at mine, so I'm going to head out if that's alright with you lads?"  
"Course, Lou," I said.   
He stood and shoved his shoes on and grabbed his jacket off of the end of the sofa. He stood still for a moment, looking awkward.   
Niall went up to him first and hugged him good bye and then Zayn.   
When it was my turn, Louis twisted his head so that his mouth was near my ear.   
"Don't forget what we talked about, Payno. You act like that again and I'll have your balls. We're normal," he said.  
When I pulled away, I saw how his eyes twinkled, the corners of his mouth twitching up to fight back a mischievous grin.   
It was weird, seeing him so full of life and energy.   
It was something that I could get used to.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hasn't been a month and I'm updating! What's wrong with me???   
> I think you'll really like this chapter though.  
> ;-)

Louis' POV 

I hated to admit it, but I really had had fun with the boys. I had never been scared of them, just scared of what they would say. I didn't want them to confront me or dig for details about what was going on in my head.  
They didn't though. They seemed to know not to.   
The only one that seemed off was Liam, but he had loosened up after I had spoken to him. I guessed that he didn't know what the boundaries were with me, what I was okay with and what I wasn't.   
It made sense.   
He'd relaxed after I'd spoken to him and it had made the night better.   
I had left eventually because Harry had called to tell me that he was coming to my house and I knew that he could be there alone but I didn't want him to be. I didn't know if he was upset about fighting with Felix or not and I just missed him in general.   
Harry seemed fine when I got home. He greeted me with our customary hug and I clung on to him for an extra few seconds. It was getting cooler outside and he was warm.  
"Hi," he said again once I stepped away.   
"Hi," I responded.   
I just had to stand there and stare for a moment. It hit me at sudden times, how alive he was. I'd come so close to losing him that I just had to take it in sometimes, that he wasn't dead. That he was okay.   
"What?" he asked, but he was grinning at me.   
I shook my head. I felt unusually giddy.   
"Nothing," I said.  
We went upstairs to my little home theater room. The couches were more comfy.   
He flopped down on the protruding part and pulled me down with him. I fell with a loud squak that if I made in front of anybody but Harry, I would have been incredibly embarrassed.   
"Idiot," I said, but I couldn't bother with actually being mean.   
We were squished together and Harry's feet dangled off the end of the sofa, but I decided that I had never been more comfortable.   
Harry laughed, his breath hot on my neck.   
"So how was it? Were the boys as terrifying as you thought they'd be?" he asked, reminding me of a concerned parent.   
"I told you, it was fine. It was scary at first, you know, you absolute bastard for leaving me alone like that. But I don't know, it got really normal after a while. I had a bit of a chat with Liam cause he was acting all weird, but it was better after that. But yeah, it went great. It was just like it used to be, you know?" I said.   
Harry nodded.   
"That's great then," he said.  
I nodded.   
"How're you though?" I asked, "I mean, you don't seem super upset but I never really know with you."  
Harry sighed and shrugged the best he could in our position.   
When he didn't answer, I pressed a little harder, "Why'd you guys fight? You guys don't normally do that."   
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before rolling onto his back, away from me.  
"He's just...worried. He doesn't think I should be with you so much," Harry said quietly, almost so quietly that I couldn't hear him.  
"He doesn't want you with me so much," I repeated, sitting up, "Why the fuck not? What's so wrong with me? Am I too unstable for him and I can't be on his approved list of friends?"   
"Louis," Harry groaned, "Shut the fuck up."  
He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and sighed, loud and long. I stood up and crossed my arms.   
"No!" I snapped, knowing that I sounded for all the world a petulant child, "Doesn't he know that he doesn't have to play mommy? You're a fucking adult Harry, you can make your own decisions. He doesn't have to babysit you. Maybe I don't want you to be with Felix so much! There! But god, if Felix doesn't want you here, maybe you should just get out!"  
I had no idea what was saying. Felix had always gotten under my skin and knowing that he didn't want Harry around me so much hit me hard.   
Harry sat up and stared at me. I hadn't known if he was upset about fighting with Felix at first but now I could see it. Or maybe it wasn't that he was upset about it. I could just see everything that he had been trying to hide from me right there on his face. He had to be stressed about coming back and it had to hurt being around me and there were probably other things that I didn't even know about.    
I shut up.   
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.  
He shook his head.   
"No. I should have elaborated more," he sighed.   
He wouldn't look at me.  
I sat next to him.   
"Hey," I said, putting my head on his shoulder, "I didn't mean to go off on you like that. If you think it's the right thing, that you can't handle being around me so much, H, I'm so much more concerned for your health than you being with me. Do what you have to, okay?"   
Harry shook his head.   
"No. He was just making sure that I was doing alright and we just got into a little fight. It's not...it was a fight because I disagreed with him. That's what a fight is. I've told you before, Louis, and I'll tell you again- I love you and I'm in love with you and they're two different things. You're one of my best friends Louis and I want to be around you. I'm okay. I'd tell you if I wasn't," he said.   
"You didn't tell me the first time," I said, "I had to find out when you passed out at a fucking photo shoot."  
"Louis," he said softly, "God, you have no idea what it was like, watching you go through that. I didn't know what was best for you or for me, if you should have known earlier or not. I didn't know what to do and...I don't know."   
I took my head off of his shoulder.   
"And I know you still resent me for ignoring you when I was in rehab but I don't regret it. I'd focused on you for so long that I just had to focus on myself and only myself. You're the worlds biggest distraction. One look at you when I was so unstable would have ruined me," he continued.   
"Nice to know," I said bitterly.   
"Louis," he sighed.   
"Stop saying my fucking name like that!" I snarled.   
It was quiet and tense for a long moment.   
"Maybe you should just go," I muttered.  
"No."  
I turned to look at him. He stared back at me.   
I was too stunned to say anything. I'd expected him to bow out gracefully once I gave him the chance.   
"What do you mean no?" I snapped.   
"I mean no. I came over here because I wanted to have a nice night in with you and forget all the stupid shit we've both done to each other and everything else going on around us because that's what we do. So that's what we're going to do, goddammit," Harry said.   
I blinked at him.   
"What? I'm very passionate when it comes to you," he said.  
I found myself wondering when the room had gotten so hot.   
"I'm sorry?" he tried.   
I snorted, "If anyone has anything to be sorry for, it's me. I'm sorrier. Sorriest. But I accept your apologies."  
"Good," Harry said, nodding, "I accept yours. Now come here."  
We ended up eating the rest of my takeaway and watching stupid shows on the telly.   
I wasn't tired, but he looked ready to fall asleep. I thought for a moment and got an idea.   
"Harry, let's dance," I said.   
He blinked at me. I could see him fighting to stay awake.   
"Come on, get up. We have to dance to whatever song comes on, okay? If it's fucking Miley Cyrus, I wanna see you twerk. Any song," I said, pulling him to his feet.   
"Kinda wanna go to bed," he mumbled, leaning against me.  
"I don't. Suck it up," I said.   
Harry pouted at me and I couldn't help but poke his lower lip.   
"Stop that," I commanded.   
I grabbed my phone from the sofa and pressed shuffle.   
For the next ten minutes, we danced around the room, flailing and occasionally falling over- Harry-  and I couldn't stop laughing.   
It was so stupid and so fun and I nearly toppled over when Harry did for the third time. I was almost in tears and my sides hurt but I couldn't think of anything else I would have rather been doing.   
And then some slow song came on.   
It was one of those songs that I didn't really even know the name of but had come on an album that I'd downloaded just because I liked one of the songs.   
Harry went to change it, still grinning.   
"Leave it on," I commanded.   
He straightened up and gave me a confused look.   
"You can't really dance to a slow song, Louis," he said.   
"I said we had to dance to any song that came on. Now come slow dance with me," I ordered.   
Harry gave me a long look.   
"I don't think that's a good idea," he said slowly.   
"Harry, come here," I snapped, pulling him by the wrist, "It's just one song."  
He allowed himself to be handled into a position. I looped my arms around his neck and put his on my waist. I tucked my face into his neck and smiled.   
"Louis, I really don't think we should-"  
"Shut up, Harry. It's one song," I said.   
He was tense, his muscles stiff as I rocked us from side to side. His thumbs dug into my sides.   
"Louis, seriously-"   
He sounded so pained that it almost hurt me to refuse to let him go. I couldn't.   
"Louis," he tried one final time.   
I shook my head.   
I could feel how shaky his breathing and I understood. We hugged all the time but nothing quite so intimate. Something just was different.   
We stayed quiet for a little while, listening to the music. At least, I was. His grip tightened on me and I wondered if I shouldn't stop.   
I turned my head sideways a little more and pressed a kiss to his neck.   
"Louis," Harry hissed.   
I kissed him again, a little higher up.   
"Louis, what the fuck are you doing," he asked, getting increasingly panicked.  
I didn't answer, just continued trailing little kisses up his neck and throat.   
"Louis, please stop. Seriously, I can't, stop it," he whispered, trying to back away.   
I got to the edge of his jaw and stopped.   
"Harry, do you trust me?" I asked.   
He looked down at me.   
Then, hesitantly, he nodded.   
"Good," I replied.   
Then I pulled him down to kiss him again, but this time on the mouth.   
It it was great for a moment.   
Then he was shoving me back, so hard that I tripped and fell on my arse, hard.   
"What the fuck, Louis?" he choked, "What the fuck was that?"   
I got up slowly, making sure that my arse wasn't broken.   
Out of any reaction I had been expecting, I hadn't expected him to be angry.   
His eyes were wide and terrified and his face was flushed red down to the collar of his shirt. His hands were shaking.   
"You...you know how I fucking feel Louis. Did you think you could just take advantage of that or some- some shit? I can't...I can't believe you, Jesus Christ, I need to get out of here," Harry wheezed.   
He was breathing fast and laboriously and it snapped me out of my shock.   
"Shit, shit, Harry, come here please, you don't understand, just listen to me, okay?" I begged.   
"No, why the fuck would you do that, Louis? What the fuck?" Harry gasped, "I can't, I can't."  
His face was getting a dangerous red.   
"Harry, please sit down. Just relax, okay? It's okay. Sit down. Just breathe," I begged.  
Harry must have been getting dizzy or lightheaded because he fumbled to sit down on the sofa. He put his head in his hands and I watched him struggle to breathe for a minute before I sat down next to him. He flinched when I put my hand on his shoulder.   
"Harry, listen to me. Are you listening?" I asked.   
He nodded but he didn't look up.   
"Please just hear me out. You know, while you were gone, I was always by myself and I had a lot of time to think. And I realized, I'd do anything for you-"  
"Including pretend to be into me just to make me feel better? That's bullshit Louis, you don't have a fucking clue what you're doing to me," Harry snarled, but I could hear tears in his voice.   
"That's not what I'm saying!" I sighed, "You know me better than anyone else does. You know that I wouldn't do just about anything for anybody but you. And I know that too. You're different to me and I didn't know why for a really long time."  
"What are you saying, Louis?" Harry mumbled, "Don't do this to me. Please don't."  
"Harry, please! Just listen, okay?" I hissed, "This is scary and it isn't easy for me either. But like, I'm proper in love with you, okay, and-"  
Harry stood up, shaking his head wildly.   
"No you're fucking not!" he roared, "I don't know what you think you're doing but you better shut the fuck up right now because you're fucking with my head and I thought you cared about me and this is going to ruin me so just shut up before you make it hurt anymore! You're not doing me any good by pretending!"   
His had his hands wound tightly in his hair as he paced.   
"Harry, please sit," I said quietly, a little bit afraid of him.   
He just mumbled frantically to himself.   
"Harry," I said again.   
Then, when he didn't respond, I got up, yanked him by his arm to the sofa, forced him to sit, and then climbed on top of him for good measure.   
"You're going to listen to me and you're not to say a word," I said dangerously, "Now sit on your hands so you won't be tempted to get up and if you say a single word, my knee is conveniently next to your balls and I am not afraid to use it."   
He was still breathing loudly and panicky but he obeyed, sitting on his hands.   
I gripped his face in my hands so he couldn't look away. He had feel them shaking. I was terrified.   
"So, yeah. I already said it but you were being a twat so I'll say it again and maybe you'll believe me this time. I'm in love with you, you idiot, and I know it's hard for you to hear that and believe it, but it's true, okay? I've not always felt like this, obviously, and it's really been the past few months. It's scary and new and weird but I can't help it. It's always been more than friends with you but it's never been love until recently. I loved her, Harry, as much as it hurts you, but I love you now and I think she might have been right when she said I've always been a little in love with you. Not like proper in love but a little. Not enough to have it go anywhere. I wouldn't have known it if somebody had told me back then; it wasn't like that. But now it is. You're an amazing person and I need you to give me a chance because I don't want to feel what I put you through first-hand. I'm not pretending just to make you feel better, I swear on everything I love or whatever it is that I'm supposed to swear on. I would never do that to you. Please, Harry," I whispered.   
He'd give up on sitting on his hands and he cautiously put them on my waist.   
I gave him a tiny smile.   
He seemed mesmerized.   
"I don't know," Harry finally said, his voice hoarse, "I don't know what to say or what to do. I'm really fucking scared and even if I choose to believe you, I couldn't take it if something went wrong with us. If you broke up with me or I with you. Or- since when are you even gay? I just don't understand what's happening!"   
I shrugged.   
"I dunno. It's not...I'm not gay. But I'm not straight. I guess...what's the word where you're attracted to people and you really don't care what the gender is? I guess that's what I am. It's just you, H. You don't know how bloody scared I am too. But I swear to God I'm not going anywhere. I will never hurt you, I promise. I love you so much," I breathed, resting my forehead on his.   
"I'm scared," he muttered.   
His hands were so tight on my hips that I wondered if they would leave bruises. I wondered if I would really mind that.   
"I know," I replied.  
We stayed like that for ages, just carefully breathing into each others' mouths, not quite kissing, but close enough. It was almost relaxing. He closed his eyes for a while.   
"I want...I want to believe you," Harry said, his eyes opening, "You know how I feel about you and just...hearing that you might feel the same is so surreal. This isn't supposed to happen."  
"But it is," I said, "It bloody well IS. Give us a chance, Harry. If I'm not going anywhere and you're not going anywhere, then we don't have anything to be afraid of. I trust you with everything I have and I hope you trust me."  
He nodded.    
"Give me a chance," I whispered.   
Harry hesitated a moment before nodding again, "Yeah, okay."   
I grinned.  
"I think," I said slowly, "That it's late and I'm tired and I kind of just want to go to bed and kiss you a bit, if that's alright."  
He looked stunned. He had to cross his eyes to look at my mouth but he managed. He looked back up at me.   
"Kiss me?" he asked, almost dumbly.   
"Yeah," I said, "I tried to earlier. I reckon you remember how that ended. I'd like to again."  
Harry managed a small smile.    
"I think I'd like to as well," he mumbled, his ears turning a pretty shade of pink.   
"Lovely," I said. 

 Harry's POV 

Kissing Louis when he was drunk was one thing.  
Kissing him when he was completely sober after he had said he was in love with me probably could have solved hunger, peace, and any other problem that the world could have.   
He had pulled me to his room and before I could even blink, we were kissing, properly snogging almost. It was never going to actually go anywhere. We both knew that. It was still agonizingly hot.   
I still couldn't get my mind to settle. It was racing, trying to understand what was happening, trying to understand how I wasn't dreaming.   
It was embarrassing, how shaky my hands were after he had to prompt me to touch him.   
It was so hard to focus. I couldn't multitask when his hands were in my hair and he was kissing me and it was unfair how good it was. I couldn't even think about moving my hands.   
I was scared.   
When he eventually pulled away to get more than a quick breath of air, his chest pressed against mine and I could feel the quick rise and fall as he breathed.   
"Hey," he said softly, "You doing okay?"   
"I don't know," I replied honestly.   
"We don't have to, if you don't want. I'm sorry, I should have asked," he said quickly, "And then I couldn't really stop myself, you're quite the good kisser, Styles, and shit, I'm sorry."  
I smiled a little.   
"I'm pretty rubbish right now. I'm too nervous," I said.   
"You don't think I am?" Louis asked, raising his eyebrows, "Shit, H, I'm so scared I'm going to get hard that it's not okay."  
I laughed out loud and marveled at his grin.   
"Not yet," I said.  
"No," Louis agreed, "Even if we had a stable relationship, I couldn't. Not...not after what's already happened to me. I'm sorry. I won't...I don't think I'll be able to give that to you for a while."  
"It's okay. I don't need that," I assured him, "I'm just so scared right now I can't think of anything else."  
"Hey," he said gently, "We'll have a nice long chat in the morning, get everything out in the open. And now, if you're okay with it, and please tell me if you're not, I want to kiss you a little bit more."   
I nodded and then hesitated.   
"Can I um. Maybe keep my eyes open? I don't...I'm just afraid I'll open them and realize that I'm just daydreaming or something and I'm kissing somebody else or something? It's stupid," I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.   
"Anything you want. Whatever makes you comfortable," Louis said.   
 And when he pulled me in again, I kept my eyes open and he did too. It should have been awkward and so, so weird, but it wasn't. It made me feel more comfortable and as cliche as it was, I was mesmerized by his eyes.   
"I love you, you know," he murmured, a while after we stopped and he was curled against my chest.   
"Yeah," I said faintly, "I love you too."  
He smiled and pressed a kiss to my throat.   
I couldn't sleep. I stayed awake, tense as Louis slept. His breath was warm and should have been relaxing but nothing could have relaxed me.  
At some ungodly hour in the middle of the night, I eventually gave up and crept out of his bed as quietly as I could.   
I went back to the sofa in the other room and laid down. I stared at his massive television for ages before finding my phone where it had been knocked to the floor previously. I called Felix.   
I didn't expect him to answer, it was around four in the mourning, and if didn't surprise me when I got his voicemail.   
"Um, hi," I said quietly once it started recording, "So, I guess a lot has happened. I think Louis and I are together now? Like in a relationship? He told me he's in love with me and I, um, I believe him, Felix. It's amazing and it's so fucking scary I couldn't sleep so I called you. I know you won't like it and you're going to worry and I know, shit, it's going to hurt you, I know. I...I'm really scared and I want you to tell me it's going to be okay because you always know what's best for me and I'm scared you'll say this isn't what's best for me. I'm so in love and he says he is, so why not, I guess? He's lovely and I want to be his boyfriend. I guess that's what we are. Shit. I think he's my boyfriend now, Felix. Um, I think I'm probably going to start running out of time for this so I'll talk to you tomorrow. Please don't be mad. I'm really sorry. I love you, talk to you tomorrow. Um. Bye."  
I hung up, my head spinning.   
Boyfriends.   
That's what Louis and I probably were. That's what people in love were. I smiled to myself because as scary as the thought was, I couldn't help it.   
Felix was another issue.   
He was in love with me like I was with Louis. But I hadn't fallen in love with him how Louis had with me.   
It hurt to know that something that made me so happy would make him so upset.   
My thoughts were interrupted by a movement by the doorway.   
Louis padded in, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.   
"Woke up needing a piss and you weren't there," he said, yawning, "Budge over."  
I did and he laid down next to me, wrapping an arm around my waist.   
"You good?" he mumbled, half-asleep.  
"Yeah. Just couldn't sleep and didn't want to keep you awake with my tossing and turning," I replied.  
"Hey. I'm supposed to be the one with the sleeping issue," he said, poking at my chest.   
I snorted.   
He shifted around before he was satisfied with being half on top of me, his head on my chest and his hair in my mouth.   
"I like hearing your heart beat," he explained quietly once I spit out a mouthful of hair, "Reminds me you're alive, you know. That I didn't lose you."   
My heart ached suddenly, sharp and quick.   
"Go to sleep, Louis," I said.  
He obeyed.   
At some point around six, I fell asleep too. 


	23. Chapter 23

Louis' POV

When I woke up, Harry was already awake. I could hear him fussing in the kitchen downstairs.   
I smiled a bit to myself and I pressed my fingers to my lips. They genuinely felt sore. I'd spent ages kissing him and I probably would have for longer if we hadn't needed to stop to calm ourselves down.   
It was almost embarrassing, how easily worked up I got. But in my defense, it'd been ages since Eleanor had broken up with me and it wasn't like I had gone out to pick girls up with my state of mind.   
I inwardly cringed when I realized that the last and only person Harry had slept with was Taylor.   
Taylor.   
Thinking of them, their thing, whatever it had been, made an kind spark of anger flare up.   
And then I remembered he'd slept with me too, but I had no recollection of it actually happening.   
I kicked off the blanket that Harry must have gotten for us at some point and made my way downstairs, grabbing my glasses on the way down. They were in their case, I noticed. Harry probably had put them there; I never bothered.  
My stomach twisted a little. I was nervous to talk to him.  
I wanted him, that much was for sure.   
But I wasn't sure if he would take me after all I had put him through.   
I headed downstairs quietly.   
He was in the kitchen, just like I had expected. He turned around when I came in and gave me a small smile.   
I took a deep breath and just went for it.   
I approached him and smiled up at him.   
"Hi," I said carefully before stretching up to kiss him.   
It wasn't anything much, just a quick peck, but it made me smile harder.   
His hand gripped tight on my waist and he opened his eyes slowly, exhaling shakily.   
"Don't know if I'm ever gonna get used to that," he muttered, giving me a strained smile.   
I didn't try to think about what he meant. I just leaned back a bit and stole a sip of tea from his mug. I made a face.   
"How do you drink that shit?" I grumbled.   
Harry laughed and reached behind him to produce another mug.   
"This is yours, you picky brat," he said.   
I grinned.   
"Thanks babe," I said quickly.   
I paused, waiting to gauge his reaction.   
His hands tightened on his own mug and he looked away from me.   
I sighed.   
"How about you make us breakfast and then we talk, okay?" I asked, reaching out to rub his arm.   
"Okay," Harry replied quietly.   
I sat on my counter and watched him while he cooked. I was content with the silence but he was on edge.   
"H, the eggs are burning," I said when he stood rinsing off a spoon for a solid two minutes.   
Harry swore and frantically turned off the heat.   
He kept swearing under his breath as he tossed the ruined eggs into the bin and put the pan in the sink to cool it off.   
His hands were shaking, I saw.   
"You okay?" I asked.  
Harry didn't reply, just kept scrubbing at the burned bits of egg on the pan.  
"H. Toast," I said carefully.   
He spun around to see black bits of toast pop out of the toaster.   
"Goddammit," he yelled.   
He stomped over to the toaster and ripped the cord out of the socket on the wall. He picked up the toaster and threw it on the ground. It made a metallic clang and charred bits of toast scattered across the kitchen.   
Harry hissed when the hot metal burnt his hands and threw his mug for good measure. It shattered.   
I was struck by a sudden memory of the day I'd found out about his cutting and his not eating or whatever he wanted to call it. I remembered walking into his kitchen and finding him and Liam and a pile of broken plates. He'd had a 'little melt down', Liam had said.   
Harry stared at the tea and the toaster and the shards of his mug at his feet.   
"Harry?" I asked quietly.  
He looked up at me, almost looking startled to see that I was still there.   
He stared at me, his eyes wide, breathing hard.   
I hopped off of the counter and carefully walked towards him.   
His eyes stopped me. I couldn't even begin to describe the swirl of emotion in them.   
"I- I just wanted to like, do something for you to show like, I can do this? Like, I wanna be a good boyfriend but like, I just wanted to show you I can? And then I fucked it all up and shit, Louis I'm sorry, but I can't and I don't- I should- I- fuck," Harry babbled, "I just wanted to have this thing for you but I couldn't and I'm sorry I just wanted it to be nice and now shit, I don't think I can- I don't know and I burnt the fucking toast and the eggs and I broke my favorite mug and-"  
"Hey, hey," I said quietly, cutting him off, "It's okay, you know. I don't need anything nice; I already know you're a great boyfriend if that's what you want us to be. And besides, I can't really be upset with you anyways, right? I'd have burned them long before you did."   
He nodded and relaxed just enough, hardly anything really, but enough to let me know it was okay to go to him.   
I let him bury his face in my neck and just cry. It felt like relief and bitter sadness at the same time. His hands gripped the back of my shirt so tightly I thought it might rip.   
Suddenly, he wrenched back and stared at me, his eyes wide and wild.   
"Louis, I want- I- Louis. I want- I really want-," he stammered.  
I couldn't make out what he meant and I told him as much.   
He paced around, his hands flying up and down his arms restlessly.   
"Want it," he mumbled, "Fuck. I want- I need, shit- want it-"  
I stood and stared at him, horribly confused, until I noticed his eyes flicker to the shards of broken ceramic on the floor and how hard his nails were digging into his wrists.   
"Shit, Harry, no," I hissed, grabbing for him just as he darted for the closest shard of his mug.   
He didn't fight it, just made a low, pained noise and sank his teeth into my shoulder when I hauled him away. It stung like hell but I let him. It was better that he hurt me than himself.   
I shoved him against the nearest wall and leaned my weight on him. He could have easily broken away if he had really wanted to but I had a hunch that he wouldn't.   
"Don't let me, don't let me," Harry pleaded, his voice muffled by my shoulder.   
"I won't, I swear I won't. Calm down darling, okay? Just relax a little for me," I soothed, petting at his hair and his sides, any available surface I could get to.   
His nails bit into my back and he bit my shoulders, my neck, any place he could reach to keep himself quiet.   
I felt the tears in his body before I felt them on the side of my neck. He sobbed against me and his body went lax, sagging where I had him pushed against the wall.   
I didn't really care when tears and spit smeared on my skin and shirt. He needed it and that was what mattered to me.   
I tried to whisper things that I thought were comforting but I didn't know what to say to make him settle.   
I told him how much I loved him and that we would be okay, that he would be okay, and I used every pet name I could think of and he still kept crying.   
Harry eventually settled down, making me cringe as he loosened his grip and I felt what would become bruises from his hands and his teeth.   
"Hey, how about you go lay down on the sofa, okay? I can make you some more tea if you'd like, and clean this up a bit," I said gently, leaning back a little so he wasn't pressed against the wall so tightly.   
He nodded. He didn't even make a joke about me actually cleaning for once. He shuffled out of the room.   
I put the kettle on and set about carefully picking up the big shards of his mug. I didn't know if I even had a broom for the smaller bits and it took me a few minutes of searching to decide that I would just try to wipe it up.  
The kettle whistled and I made Harry his tea, as well as one for me since mine was bound to have gone cold.   
I carefully picked up the toaster, wincing as it burnt my fingers a bit, and dumped the remnants of the toast into a bin.   
I grabbed the mugs and went out to find Harry.   
He was wrapped up in a blanket and I could hear pathetic little sniffles from underneath it.   
"Hey," I said carefully as I squeezed underneath him so his upper body was mostly covering mine.   
"Hi," he mumbled, turning on his side so his cheek was pressed to my chest.   
"What was that about?" I asked tentatively.   
Harry shrugged.   
"You've got to talk to me, H. I can't...I'm rather scared right now and I need you to tell me what the hell just happened," I sighed.   
He shrugged again, but I let him have a few moments to think of what he wanted to say.   
"I just...I wanted to have something nice with you. I wanted to show you I can do this and I just fucked it all up. And like, I dunno, I just got really mad because I wanted it to be all nice and good for you and I got really stressed and then the eggs burnt and then the toast burnt and I was just really mad and scared and I guess I've just not fully recovered yet, you know, and as soon as I saw those little pieces of my mug my mind just figured it would be the easiest solution to stop what I was feeling for a while, like it always used to. I didn't really want to but I don't know," Harry mumbled, letting me lace our fingers together.   
It was weird, I noticed, how much bigger his hands were than mine.   
I shook myself out of the thought. I had more important things to thing about. Namely, what the hell I was supposed to do.   
"H, you know I don't need anything special. You don't have to stress about that. Make me a tea and I'm fine. And...shit, I don't even know what I should say. I've got so much I want you to know," I sighed, "Obviously, I'm very, very not okay with you trying to cut yourself after what, nearly a year since the last time? Like...I know you didn't really want to, but the fact that that's what your first reaction was..."  
Harry sighed, but with the way his face was against me, it came out as a snuffle and I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning. It was kind of adorable, despite the circumstances.   
"I know," he said quietly, "And I...I've been considering going to like a therapist again lately, just to keep me from going off the rails again now that we're about to go on tour and everything and I should. I really should now. I...I'm sorry. For like, scaring you. I'm really sorry."  
"It's perfectly okay. I know you're still recovering, I know. And I...you know, when I was thinking about...you know, doing what I did last night, I never even thought I'd have to consider you rejecting me. I know for a fact you feel the same, so why should I have worried? But I didn't think...you seem so stable and I forget sometimes that you aren't. There's only so much weight I can put on you before you have to let it go. I made you want to cut yourself again, H. I feel sick," I mumbled.   
He brushed his thumb against the back of my hand.   
"I want you," he said softly, "I do. I want to be with you and I want you."   
I felt my face flush.   
"I didn't really sleep much last night but. I want to give it a shot, I think. I believe you when you say you love me 'cause I've always known when you're lying. And I...I've wanted you for so long, I couldn't say no even if I wanted to," Harry continued.   
He tilted his head and looked up at me.   
I smiled. Then frowned.  
"I can't...I can't ask you to do this if it isn't good for you," I sighed, "I can't do it if I know you're thinking about hurting yourself again no matter what you say. And if...if it's going to be an unhealthy relationship for both of us...god, I'm already so reliant on you, I don't want this to make it even more fucked up."  
"Then don't let it," Harry said.  
It felt like we'd switched roles for a moment. I was second-guessing things and he was assuring me that we would be fine instead of the opposite.   
I made a face.   
"It isn't something you can help. Don't...I don't want to be reckless and go into this blind and then regret it later," I sighed.   
He made a little noise.   
"That's why we're talking," he said, "So we're not going into it blind or whatever. I want to try, Louis. I don't think I could stomache saying no."  
"Yeah," I said, but I wasn't really sure what I was agreeing with.   
"You can't do this," he said suddenly, his eyes narrowing, "You can't just fucking...you can't say you love me and make me believe it and then take it away. I'd rather you be lying to me. It's like...shit, giving a starving man a five course meal and taking it away as soon as he picks up his fork. You can't do that."  
His hand came up to pick at the scars on his wrist and he sat up, away from me.  
"I want to try," I sighed, "God, I really do. We just...I need to make everything clear. Set boundaries. Shit, I don't know. Just talk about it first."   
"Then talk," Harry snapped.   
"Right," I said carefully, "So I'm in love with you. And I want to go on dates with you and kiss you and do stupid things together and all that jazz. I'm scared of hurting you or hurting myself but I don't want to wait, you know? I'm as good as I'm going to get and I don't know about you, but I can't just look at you every day and just wonder what it would be like. I'm so, so sorry, H, for what I've put you through and I get it if you don't want to do this because I was absolute shit to you for a really long time. But I...I don't want to know what you went through. I don't want to have to look at you everyday and not know what's it's like to be your boyfriend. That's what I want to be. And I know I'm still a bit fucked in the head but I don't know if I'll ever trust anybody like I trust you. I don't mind you touching me or kissing me and shit, maybe one day I wouldn't mind you fucking me, and it's just like...I trust you with my life and you know I don't feel like that with very many people. Not anymore. I don't think I'll ever feel like this with anyone else. I've been through absolute hell and so have you and I don't want to go through that again but if we have to, I want to do it with you, not because of you."  
Harry stared at me. The room was bright with afternoon sunlight and it made his eyes look so, so green.   
"I love you," he breathed, "God, I love you so much."  
I waited for him to say anything more but he didn't.   
"That's all?" I asked.   
He shrugged.   
"I mean yeah, I find it hard to believe this all. It's like you didn't think when you auditioned that you'd be in a world famous band hardly two years later. This is just so...overwhelming and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think, really. I've hurt so much over you and now you're saying that I can stop hurting but I don't know if I know how. And I'm so fucking scared of what can go wrong 'cause I don't think I could take that, you know? But then I don't think I can just walk away," he said.  
I nodded.   
Harry shook out his hair, a move I hadn't seen in ages.   
"S' getting long," I said dumbly.   
He snorted, a little smile on his face.   
"All the better for you to pull, my dear," he said.  
I laughed half-heartedly but it brought up something that I had been avoiding saying.   
"H, you know...you know I can't like give you things like that. I love you and I trust you but I just can't do that," I mumbled.  
Harry seemed to know what I was talking about without me having to elaborate.   
"Louis, you know me. I'm not in this just because I want to have sex with you. You're so fucking fit and I get off sometimes thinking about you," my face went bright red and he snorted, "But that doesn't matter to me. I'd rather not get off at all for years than hurt you."  
I stared at him.  
"You don't mean that," I said.  
"I do," Harry replied solemnly.   
"You say that now but give it like two weeks at best and you'd break," I said.  
"You're getting past the point, Louis. Listen, I know you've been hurt and scared out of your mind and I swear I'll never do a thing to you that you don't want me to. God, I...I can't even imagine...when they told me what happened to you, I thought I was going to go crazy if I didn't find you and just hold you because I love you so much, Louis and I'll never hurt you like that," he said earnestly.   
I gave him a small smile. It was weird. I hadn't been able to feel what love was for a long time and all of a sudden, he was showing me what it was like to love somebody again.   
"You know, Louis, you never have to, if you don't want to. Like, I'll gladly let you fuck me any time of the day," Harry said, his face going to tiniest bit red.  
I frowned.   
"I couldn't. I can't put you in that much pain," I mumbled.  
Harry snorted.   
"Louis, it doesn't hurt if it's done right. It feels like really, really good, actually. And trust me, I've probably had a dildo up my arse that's just as big as your dick," he mumbled, "And besides, we've done it before."   
I jerked.  
I hated thinking about that, how I'd used him in one of the worst ways possible. It made me feel so sick, like I was the biggest asshole in the world. I had no idea how Harry thought that I could possibly deserve him after that.   
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," I said shortly, moving away from him a bit.   
"Louis," he said softly, "Don't beat yourself up about it. I consented to it and I was sober. It's not your fault. If anything, it's mine."  
I shook my head.  
"We're done talking about this," I repeated.   
"Alright," Harry said.  
He made a noise when I flinched as he put his hand on my knee.   
"Are we really done talking about this?" he asked.  
"Yes," I said quickly.   
"We can go as slow as you want, Louis," he said gently, moving closer to me and nudging my ankle with his foot, "You know I don't care. I just want you, not your body."  
"I am my body," I said.  
"No. You're so much more than that I know how shitty you've felt and you feel used and gross or whatever but I don't see what you think I should. You're so beautiful, Louis, and nothing you've done can change that. I'm so in love that it's killing me but I think that if you love me too, maybe it'll hurt less. I just need you to love yourself too," he murmured.   
"There's nothing for me to love," I muttered, "You may not care about what I've done but we're different people. I've gone through what I've gone through but you haven't. You don't know what it's like. I'm sorry but I just don't know how."  
"I'll help you, then," Harry said, "I'll love you until you can love yourself again. I'll take such good care of you, Louis, I promise. I swear. I wanna take care of you."  
I could feel his hands starting to shake against my skin and the budding distress in his voice.   
"Yeah, okay. You can take care of me," I whispered, "But I need to take care of you too. You need that as much as me."  
"Yeah," he agreed, "I do."  
We sat in silence for a bit, just digesting what we'd talked about. Finally, Harry lifted his head from my shoulder and studied me carefully.   
He looked uncertain.   
"Can I...can I maybe kiss you?" he asked.   
I laughed softly, but I wasn't really laughing at him.  
"You don't have to ask to kiss me, you know. You're...you're my boyfriend now," I said.  
"Boyfriend," he repeated, a slow grin spreading across his face, "Boyfriend."  
"Yeah, boyfriends," I agreed.   
I twisted my fingers in his hair and just smiled at him for a moment.  
"So I can kiss you?" Harry asked, just a tiny bit of fear in his otherwise wonder-filled eyes.   
"Of course. That's what boyfriends do," I said.   
He laughed, his breath hot on my neck, but he lifted his face and kissed me.   
It was great, just like it had been the night before. Harry had kissed people of course, but it seemed like he was built specifically just to kiss me.   
Just the right amount of pressure as he nipped at my lip and he knew exactly when to slip a bit of tongue in and how much.   
It was pathetic, how quickly it turned into something less than innocent. It got harder, dirtier. I pulled his hair and he rocked his hips down against my thigh.   
I froze. He realized it only a few moments after.   
I could feel him start to blush. How he had enough blood to make his face go red when he was that hard was a wonder to me.   
Harry stared at me for a moment before rocking onto his knees. He looked absolutely obscene and I internally sighed to myself because I was too fucked up to even want to take advantage of that.   
He scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable and shy.   
"I'll just...um, be right back," he mumbled, before untangling his legs from mine and escaping from the room.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anybody want to switch this entire series into third person for me because I really, really, really hate first person.

Louis' POV

It was a little awkward, the first day. Harry came back from upstairs with a flaming red face and I couldn't imagine that I looked any better.  
He was nervous and almost shy. We did what we could with the remnants of his breakfast and spent most of the day just sitting together and talking everything through.  
Harry seemed not to know what our boundaries were. He would go to put his hand on my leg or my arm or anywhere and quickly draw it back and look at me for approval. He asked to kiss me if he wanted to.  
We ate lunch and dinner quietly. It wasn't necessarily an awkward quiet but it wasn't completely comfortable. I felt like I had so much more to say to him but I couldn't put it into words.  
Harry's phone kept ringing but he ignored it every time.  
"Harry, you can't just keep ignoring him," I said, "Does he even know where you are?"  
Harry shook his head irritably.  
"I called him last night and told him. About everything. I don't want to know what he's going to say to me," he muttered.  
"You're not being fair to him," I argued, "I know and you know how he feels about you and you know how you felt when I got engaged? That's probably how he feels right now, for all we know."  
Harry frowned.  
"He's not like that though," he mumbled.  
"Not outwardly. You have no idea what's going through his head," I said, "Don't be such a hypocrite, Harry."  
Harry rolled his eyes.  
"You're not staying tonight, just so you know. You're going back to his place," I added firmly.  
"Whatever," Harry mumbled.  
"I'm serious," I snapped, "I will not let you fuck up your friendship for me."  
"You don't even like him, Louis," he argued.  
"True. But I like that he makes you happy and I like that he's helped you through everything. He's done more for you than I ever have, hell, he's done more than I ever will," I said.  
"Louis," he said quietly.  
"Don't pretend like that's not true. I put you in rehab and he brought you out," I said.  
Harry was quiet.  
I saved him the awkward moment of trying to think of what to say by pulling him in to kiss me. I kept it carefully innocent.  
"You know, if you think he's better for you than me-" I said a little while later.  
"Don't even go there, Louis," Harry said shortly, "Nobody is better for me than you."  
I rolled my eyes.  
"Even you have to know that that's absolute bullshit," I snorted.  
"No. Not really. It's not you that wasn't good for me before, it was always in my own head. You yourself never did a thing," he sighed.  
"Harry, you've said yourself that you ignored me because I wasn't good for you, don't lie to me," I said.  
"Can we just stop? I'm tired of fighting with you," Harry said quietly, poking me with his toes.  
I tried to smile at him but I couldn't help but think about how Felix was better for him.  
"C'mon, Louis," he said, "It's supposed to be when we're old and senile that we fight so much, years down the road when we've been married for over fifty."  
"You want to marry me?" I asked.  
Harry flushed slightly and shrugged, but I could see a small smile tugging at his mouth.  
"Yeah," he said quietly, "I've been in love with you for so long, it's all I've ever wanted."  
"Maybe you'll find out that being with me isn't all it's cracked up to be," I said, "After all, I completely abandoned my last fiancée right after I proposed."  
Harry's eyes darkened slightly. I knew it was a sore subject for both of us, but we had to bring it up at some point.  
"You know, when I saw that ring, all that was going through my head was 'it's over, it's over'," he muttered, "I'm being completely honest when I say I really don't remember a whole lot. I don't even remember writing that letter to you. I think...I think I might have been pretty close to dead at one point because it got blacker than being unconscious, you know? And I think I might remember Liam trying to wake me up because my chest hurt really bad all of a sudden from him pushing on it, I think."  
"She figured it out, Eleanor. After you left. But she wouldn't tell me because she thought you wanted it to be a secret and I can't stand the thought that if I had forced her to tell me, maybe I could have stopped you," I said.  
It hurt a lot to remember everything, this dull pang in my chest. I had to press my fingers to his wrist to make sure I felt a pulse.  
"You couldn't have. Even if you got there before I did anything, Louis, I was too far gone. I'd rather you never see me like that. I wasn't me for a really, really long time after that and maybe that was part of why I wouldn't see you. I didn't want you to see how fucked up I was," Harry said.  
"I already knew you were," I said.  
"Yeah but seeing it was different. I don't know if you ever saw Liam or Niall or Zayn or whoever but I did. I saw how they reacted to me. I wasn't sane, Louis. I never want you to see me like that. You think you know what I was like but you never saw me after I woke up. I mean, there was that time when you came to see me when you thought I was asleep," he said, his mouth twitching.  
"You know about that?" I asked.  
Harry snorted, "Of course I know about that. I was awake when you came in. And you told me in one of your letters."  
"Oh," I said quietly.  
"That's when I decided that I wasn't going to let you visit, actually. Just hearing you talk and say whatever it was that you said...it hurt too much," he sighed.  
"I know. And it makes sense. But I don't think I'll ever quite forgive you," I admitted.  
"I know. I don't expect you to," he replied.  
It was quiet for a few moments.  
"You know, I think I should go. I just need to think," Harry said suddenly.  
I glanced at him.  
"I just need to think," he repeated.  
"I understand," I said.  
Then with a hug and a kiss, he was gone.  
I had no idea what to do with myself after that.  
I wandered around my house, feeling incredibly lonely.  
It gave me some time to think, though. I knew what I wanted, what I'd wanted for a while. It was just scary to have it actually happen.  
Harry was afraid. It was obvious. It was a lot for him to handle without any warning. It was his most unlikely dream come true.  
I wanted to know what was really going on in his head. Harry was never one to be overly articulate and while he did have his heart on his sleeve most of the time, sometimes he couldn't say out loud what he wanted. I didn't want to force him into anything that he didn't want.  
At the same time, I didn't know what I would do if he changed his mind, if he decided not to believe me or if he just wasn't ready. I needed Harry like I needed to breathe, even more sometimes, it felt like. Maybe it wasn't healthy but I had to have him. I loved him more than I'd ever loved anybody else and I couldn't imagine a world without him.  
I paced for a while more before I decided to do something probably incredibly stupid.  
I called the one person who knew what went on in Harry's head more than I did.  
Felix had given me his number when Harry had still lived with me, told me to use it if I didn't know what to do with Harry.  
I supposed it was a sufficient time to use it. I had no clue what to do.  
At the time, I'd sworn I never would use it, that I'd never voluntarily speak to him.  
Felix, it seemed, remembered that as well.  
"Thought you said you'd never call," he said as soon as he answered.  
"You're hilarious, mate," I snorted.  
"I know," he said, "So, are you in the middle of your gay freak-out or what?"  
The thing was, he didn't even sound bitter. He just sounded sad.  
"You know I'm not," I snapped.  
"Do I? I want what's best for him, you know, and if you don't know if he's what you want-"  
"He is. I swear he is," I said quickly, defensively, "This isn't a rash decision. I've thought about it for weeks."  
"I figured," Felix sighed, "I do want what's best for him. I've had to see him hurt over you for so long. Excuse me for being a little cautious."  
"Rightfully so," I said, slightly begrudgingly.  
"I know you wouldn't call me just to chat. So what do you want from me?" he asked.  
"I just- you know what's going on like, inside his head, don't you? You know him better than me. I just want to make sure I'm not pressuring him into anything he doesn't want," I said quickly.  
Felix was quiet for a long moment.  
"Of course you're pressuring him. You can't just present him with this huge decision and expect him not to be pressured. But it's not that he doesn't want it. He wants you more than anything else, as much as it pains me to say it. But he's not sure if it's good for him or not and that's what he's confused about," he said finally.  
"Do you know what he's going to do?" I asked.  
"We talked about it when he came back. He can't say no to you, Louis, he really can't. He's fucking terrified of what you could do to him but he's willing to risk it for you. He's not blindly deciding that, he's well aware of what he could be doing to himself, but he thinks this is what's best for him," he muttered.  
"Do you think this is what's best for him?" I asked, almost afraid of what he would say.  
He snorted.  
"Can I really answer that? I'm head over heels for him, Louis, much in the same way he is for you. Some biased part of me is saying fuck no, I'm what's best for him. I'd never hurt him like you have. I know him better than anyone. But you make him happier than I ever could," Felix said, edging on a bitter tone, "I knew when I met him that I felt bad for whatever poor guy, or girl, fell him because they'd never have a chance to compete with you. And then I became that guy. And yeah, it really sucks and I hope I get over it one day but you can't meet him and not fall a little in love. But besides that, I hope you're happy with him too because he's an amazing guy, you know? And I hope you don't fuck it up because I won't let him go back to you in a million years if you hurt him again."  
I figured that was as much of a blessing from him that I was going to get.  
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked, hating how insecure I sounded.  
"Do what you'd do with any significant other. He's no different. Do stupid romantic shit for him, you know how much he's into romance. Take him out to dinner, hold his hand, all that jazz. Buy him flowers on your one month anniversary or whatever. Just be normal. This isn't anything different than your normal, standard relationship and you can't think of it as being anything but that. Reassure him that you love him and you're not going to leave him. Cuddle him when he's feeling sad. Ask him to stay at your house for the night every so often. Have a sex life down the road when you're okay with it. Christ, do anything but make it a big deal. He needs normal. He doesn't need to be afraid," Felix said.  
My head spun. I knew what he said made sense.  
"Maybe you are better for him," I mumbled.  
"That's exactly what you can't think, Louis," he snapped, "He'll know if you're second-guessing yourself and he'll think you're not comfortable with HIM."  
"I know," I said quietly, "I'm just not sure how not to."  
"Don't think about it as being a one-sided thing. He hurt you too," Felix said.  
"I know," I said again, "But his was justified. He had every right to hate me. I didn't have any reason to be such an arse."  
"Louis, Jesus Christ. Don't be so hard on yourself. The thing is, he KNEW that you were hurt. You didn't know anything about what was going on. I'd say you're equally at fault and to just try to move past it because it's not going to help you any," Felix said, sounding irritated.  
"I'm sorry," I sighed.  
"Yeah. I just- listen, please be careful, okay? With him. I don't need to see him how he was when he was first in rehab ever again, got that? He's my best friend and if you hurt him, I'll hurt you twice as much," Felix growled.  
I wasn't entirely sure what to say to that, so I just nodded. Then I realized that nodding can't be communicated over the phone.  
"Yeah. Um, yeah," I said.  
"I'm not trying to be mean or anything, Louis. It's just...if he can't be with me, then I want him to end up with the best person possible, you know? And maybe that's you, I don't know. I'm just worried and very protective," he explained.  
"I want the best for him too," I snapped.  
"I know, don't get all defensive," Felix said, "I know you love him and that you care about him a lot. God, never thought I'd say this out loud but I'm so fucking jealous of you, Louis."  
"Not much to be jealous of, mate," I said, "Not with me."  
Felix actually laughed out loud at that.  
"You've got to be joking," he snorted, "Are you that daft?"  
I didn't say anything.  
"God, you're- you're unbelievable. Nothing to be jealous of? Louis, you have no idea. You're famous, you're a fucking millionaire, billionaire maybe. Even more than that, you've got a great family that supports everybody in that family and you've got so many friends and fuck, you've got Harry now. Why shouldn't I be jealous of you?" he snapped.  
"Because I'm fucked up in the head? Because I've hurt Harry more than I've ever done anything to help him? I cheated on my girlfriend, threatened to hurt my sisters, I'm a fucking alcoholic, I have some form of PTSD, I can't sleep when I don't know exactly what Harry's doing at that moment because I'm so afraid. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do! If anything, I'm jealous of you! You've got it all put together and you just seem to know everything!" I replied.  
Felix just sighed.  
"You just don't get it, do you?"  
"Get what?" I asked.  
"Never mind," he muttered, "You wouldn't understand. Is that all? Can I go now, cause it's really late."  
Talking to him hadn't been as enlightening as I had hoped it would be. Harry made it seem like Felix knew the answers to everything. Maybe he just knew the answers to Harry.  
"Tell him to...tell him to text me or call me or something in the morning," I said quietly.  
"Yeah," he sighed, "I will."  
That was it, other than a few tentative goodbyes.  
I put my phone on a table and continued to pace.  
It was the first night in what seemed like a really long time that I didn't sleep well. I had adapted in the past, functioning on three hours of sleep or less most of the time, but when I woke up early in the morning, I decided that that adaption was clearly gone. I checked my phone, not really expecting anything, and I was proven to be right.  
I didn't hear from Harry for two days.  
I understood that he needed his time to think and decide if he really wanted to try but really, was it so hard to just send me a quick message to let me know he was even alive? I hated not knowing what he was doing or where he was, almost to an obsessive point. Nearly a year later and the image of him when we found him on the floor of his room was still bright and clear in my head.  
He finally came over at night on the second day, smile shy as I let him in.  
"Sorry I haven't been talking to you," he said, "And it's kinda late. But I didn't want to wait for tomorrow."  
I shrugged, "It's fine. You can take your time."  
I went back into my kitchen where a bowl of vaguely stale cereal sat on a counter. He followed me, footsteps quiet behind me.  
"I want to try, you know," he finally said.  
Even though I had expected it, I couldn't help but grin at him.  
"Yeah?" I asked.  
Harry nodded.  
"I've thought about it. Talked to Felix, my mum, even Gemma. You're not really Gem's favorite person, you know," he snorted, "But she said if I thought you were being sincere and if I thought it would be okay, then to go ahead."  
I frowned slightly. I knew that his family couldn't be very fond of me, not after everything I'd done to him. It still hurt a little to hear. I loved them.  
Harry noticed.  
"It's fine. She's just really protective. My mum still adores you though. Thought she was going to cry or start making wedding plans or something," he said.  
That put the smile back on my face.  
I made a face at my cereal and carelessly tossed the bowl into the sink, to be washed sometime in the future. Maybe I'd get Harry to do it.  
"Upstairs. I'm exhausted and I would like a cuddle while we talk," I ordered.  
He just looked very warm and soft.  
"Have you been sleeping?" Harry asked a few minutes later when we were nicely entangled under my duvet.  
"Kind of. I was just worried about you," I said, "I'm a little...I get weird, I guess. If Gemma's protective, I don't want to know what I am. I just hate not knowing if you're okay at all hours of the day."  
"It's okay. I get it. Sometimes I'm like that too. Especially when you left for those couple weeks and I didn't know where you were, if you were even alive, Louis."  
His eyebrows crinkled and I tried not to be too terribly endeared. I kissed the little space between them in an attempt to soothe him. It didn't do anything but make him grin at me.  
"What?" I asked.  
"Nothing. Just. It's amazing, I guess. You," he said, border-line giggling as he pinched my hip.  
"You're so stupid," I muttered, meaning it in the most affectionate way possible, "M'not very amazing, I'll have you know."  
"You're the most amazing thing in the entire world to me," he said, all laughter out of his voice.  
"Yeah?" I asked.  
He nodded.  
"We've got a bit of a problem then, because I happen to think that YOU are," I said.  
I couldn't help but laugh at the way his face went a little red.  
"I love you," he mumbled, "A lot. And I know it's going to be anything but easy, but I want this more than anything."  
It went serious again.  
"So do I," I agreed.  
There was a short silence but it wasn't uncomfortable. I took the time to study him carefully, taking in the tiny details of his face.  
"Do we um, when should we like, tell everybody? Not the world, but like. The boys. Management. Fuck, have you told your family?" Harry asked.  
There was an element of distress in his voice and I quickly worked to remove it.  
"It's okay, relax. No, I haven't told them. I wasn't sure if we were a sure thing yet. But I will. I'm not afraid of it. And the boys and management, I think we should wait a little, you know? Get comfortable with us first," I suggested.  
Harry nodded.  
"Would you, um. Would you ever want to like, come out?" he asked.  
I'd thought about it extensively, even before I'd kissed him. I knew what I wanted and I could only hope it was what Harry wanted to. Coming out was massive, made even more difficult in our industry.  
"Yeah. I'd like to, I think. One day. Not anywhere in the near future, you know? I want to make sure you and I are a sure thing before coming out with you. I want us to be, but you never know. The only thing harder than coming out would be to ruin our fans dreams about you and I together by saying we broke up. I just. I do, I definetely do want to come out with you at some point, babe. Just not soon," I said slowly.  
He almost looked relieved.  
"I want that too," Harry agreed, "I don't want to hide it though. Like I know we would like kiss or hold hands in public but I don't want to cover it up. I want to be able to like, flirt with you in interviews and touch you like we used to when we were younger. Elude to it but not outright say it, I guess."  
I nodded.  
"I'm okay with that," I said.  
Harry smiled, that special little smile that I just knew was only for me.  
"I talked to Felix," I said slowly.  
Harry immediatly frowned.  
"I thought you hated him," he said.  
"Not fond of him. But I was so scared. I didn't know what you were feeling about all of this and what was going on in your head and he usually does, so I. Just called him," I explained.  
He smiled again.  
"That's cute," he mumbled, almost against his will, it seemed, "That you were so concerned that you called him."  
"Shut up," I snorted, shoving at his shoulder, but he just grinned.  
Then he looked vaguely uneasy.  
"Can I, um. I can kiss you, right?" he asked.  
"Of course. I'd love for you to," I said.  
So he did.


	25. Chapter 25

Harry's POV   
I genuinely didn't know what I was supposed to do.   
I loved Louis. And I believed he loved me.   
But I had no idea what our limits were even though we talked about them extensively. Kissing was fine, more than fine. Touching above the waist was okay too, to an extent.   
It was just so easy to forget about them.   
It had really only been a week of us officially being together when we decided on our limits. We'd been snogging on the couch and of course I let my hands wander to his arse- it was too tempting not to.   
Apparently he didn't feel the same way.   
He'd freaked out, for lack of a better word, because he'd locked himself in his room and refused to come out for two hours.   
Then we'd set boundaries.   
There were certain things he just wasn't comfortable with yet, Louis had explained, no matter how much he reminded himself it was just me, he couldn't get the image of whatever guy who had hurt him out of his head.   
I was fine with it. I knew we'd both have our own difficulties.   
The way he glared at me when I left a tiny bit of pizza on my plate after we ordered it was obvious.   
"I'm full," I explained.  
Louis just narrowed his eyes.   
"Louis, I swear I'm fine. I can be full too, you know. Just because I have a little food left over doesn't mean I'm starving myself," I said.   
"Humor me," he sighed.  
I rolled my eyes, but I ate the final few bites anyways.   
"I'm going to throw up on you," I mumbled afterwards, my head in his lap.   
"Don't joke about that," he snapped.   
"I didn't mean- Louis, I meant because I'm so full," I said.   
"I don't care," he muttered, "That's not how it sounds to me."  
I knew he was just being overly protective and as irritated as I was, I couldn't help but hide a smile in his shirt.   
Being in love with somebody that loved me back was a wonderful feeling. I knew things could go horrifically wrong, but at the moment, I couldn't see how they could.   
"I'm sorry," I said, pressing a kiss to his hip.   
I felt his fingers twitch on my back.   
I smiled to myself again.   
"I, um. I was thinking. I asked my mum if she wanted to skype later on and I, um, wanted to know if you wanted to with me. And like, tell her? About us?" Louis said carefully.   
He was nervous and I found it absolutely endearing. Honestly, I'd probably find it endearing if he murdered somebody.   
I knew Jay would be okay with it. There's been a time where she had pulled me aside and asked if Louis and I were together behind her back. Then, the answer had been a sad 'no'. But now, it wasn't quite the same.   
She'd been genuinely surprised when I had told her that we weren't, and she had even said that if her son ever got his head out of his ass, her exact words, that she would be perfectly okay with it.   
"You've got nothing to be afraid of," I said, rolling over onto my back so I could look up at him.   
"Not with me mum, no," he said, "I know she's okay with it. She'll be over the moon, probably. But I don't know about my sisters or Dan, you know?"  
"They'll be fine too. Dan's a great guy, Lou, your mum wouldn't be engaged to him if he wasn't. And your sisters love you more than anything. Sure, they might be upset that they aren't the Tomlinson that I'm in love with, but they'll get over it soon enough," I assured him.   
"Still. I have the right to be nervous. Your family knew without you ever needing to say anything. It's the actual saying it that I'm afraid of. I just don't know what or how to do it," Louis sighed.   
His fingers drummed a silent beat on my shoulder.   
"I'll say it, then," I said, "Or we can answer the call while I'm snogging you and they can figure it out themselves."  
It earned a half-hearted laugh, at least.   
"And then there's this part of me that's just like, what if they don't accept me? I can't do this without my family, H," he said.   
The tapping on my shoulder sped up.   
"Louis, don't be stupid. They'll love it," I chastised gently, "Your mum used to call me your husband, for the love of God. Don't worry about what the girls thing. The little ones won't care and the older ones won't either because they want what's best for you after seeing you hurting for so long. And you know Dan's an amazing guy. If your mum likes it, which there's no question about it, so will he. Even if she didn't, but she will, he'd accept you anyways, I know it."  
"You can't just know that," Louis said quietly, absently pulling his fingers through my hair.   
"But I do," I said.  
He gave me a small smile.   
"It's okay to be scared," I continued, "I'd be worried if you weren't; it's only natural."   
Louis nodded.   
"You know," I said slowly, "We don't have to do it today. Not if you don't want to."  
He hesitated and my heart dropped. But then he sighed and shook his head.   
"I don't see why we shouldn't do it now. I'm going to be equally as nervous today than if we do it two weeks from now," he said.   
I smiled.   
"I love you," I murmured into his thigh.   
It felt so weird, saying it, and knowing he would probably say it back and mean it the way that I meant it. It was exhilarating and absolutely terrifying. The couple days that I had stayed the night with him, I'd been so terrified and excited that I hadn't been able to get much sleep.   
And he knew, he really did. Louis tried his hardest to make me comfortable with him and make sure that I was okay. He'd do anything to make me happy, he'd said several times.   
It worried me, though.   
He and I were both so desperate to make it work that sometimes I wondered if he would do something he didn't want to just because he thought it would make me stay. Granted, I wasn't planing on going anywhere, but I didn't know exactly how his mind worked. I knew he wasn't totally comfortable if I let my hands wander, especially below his waist, but he never said anything until it got to be too much.   
It worried me, was all.   
The rest of the day passed by unbearably slowly.   
Louis was fidgety and restless, constantly getting up and moving around. He took two showers just for something to do. When I offered to join him, he had given me an absolutely withering look.   
I made us dinner using what I could find in the darkest corners of his kitchen and he just picked at it, drumming his fingers on the table.   
"I think I'll be sick if I eat any more," Louis finally admitted, pushing away his plate.   
I wanted to know how he could even be sick from the two tiny bites he had taken.   
"I'm offended," I said, trying to joke with him and get him to relax.   
He gave me a tiny smile.   
As soon as I finished, he jumped up and hastily cleared our plates, leaving them in the sink for me to do later.   
"Can we just get this over with?" he blurted as soon as he turned around.   
"We don't have to do this now," I said, slightly insulted, "Not if you don't want them to know yet."  
Louis shook his head.   
"It's not that I don't want them to know, love. You know I do. I'm just scared," he sighed.   
"Then let's do it. You're making ME nervous, now," I said.  
He nodded, but he didn't make a move to follow me as I started to leave the room.  
"Louis?" I asked.   
He didn't look up.   
"Louis," I repeated.   
"What," he mumbled.  
He still didn't move.   
"Your laptop is in your bedroom," I prompted, "We should go to your bedroom. To get your laptop."  
"I don't think I can do this," Louis said quickly, finally looking up.   
His eyes were suspiciously shiny and he seemed about a second away from a mental breakdown.   
"Oh, Lou," I said.  
I tried to go over to him, but he held up his hands and shook his head.   
"Please don't," he said, "I might actually be sick on you."   
"What do you want me to do?" I asked, "I'll do it."  
He shifted nervously and ran his hands through his hair.   
"I can't do this. I can't look at them and tell them that I'm gay and I've got a boyfriend and I just can't go this," Louis said frantically.   
"I thought you weren't gay," I said, "Pan, or something."  
"Does that really fucking matter right now?" he snapped, "Either way, I'm dating somebody who quite clearly is not a woman and I need to tell my family. I don't know how they'll react for sure and I think I'm going to be sick. Can't you just shut the fuck up and not try to be all 'therapist' for once?"  
I recoiled. I knew he was scared and upset but it still stung. A dull itch started in my veins and I promptly ignored it. I leaned against the wall and pressed my wrists against the cool surface. It helped, but only slightly.   
"I just want to help," I said quietly, "I know it's not easy, Lou."  
He laughed, but it was hollow and cold.   
"Harry, you never had to tell anybody anything. You're such an open book, everybody knew anyways. Except me, of course, but that's besides the point. My family were the ones who supported me every time I called to rant about the gay rumors, you know that? My sisters comforted Eleanor when she got upset because of the hate. They stood up for me against the people who called me gay, for fucks sake! And now I'm telling them that that was all useless because I'm with you now and I don't know what they're going to think," Louis barked, and my chest ached when I saw his eyes overflow and he really started to cry, "I don't even know if they're okay with that or not, you know? And you're so fucking perfect, why can't you just...not be? God, even when I'm yelling at you, you're trying to hug me, get the fuck off!"   
I stepped back, but I squeezed his wrist quickly.   
"Come here," I said, "We're going to go upstairs and we're going to call your mum. I don't care if it's over the phone or on Skype and if it's her or your whole family. We're going to tell her that we're together. You don't need to put a label on yourself if you don't want to, there's no need for that. And if you're too scared, she can tell everyone else for you and you don't have to say anything to anyone but her, okay? You know she'll be happy no matter what, love. And so will your sisters and so will Dan. You're so lovely, Louis, it's impossible not to love you no matter what."  
This time, he let me hug him. His shoulders shook and I had a feeling he was smearing snot on my neck.   
"How about I call her? You don't even need to speak if you don't want," I suggested.   
He shook his head.   
"What do you want then, Louis?" I asked, helpless, "If it's scaring you this much, maybe we should wait a while."  
Louis shook his head again, more frantically this time.   
"I need to get it over with," he whispered.   
"Let's go upstairs, at least. We can decide from there," I said.  
He nodded and let me all but carry him to his room.   
A few minutes later, we were sat on his bed facing each other, with his phone and computer between us. He looked pale, his hands shaking, and he was thinking so hard that I could all but hear it.   
The decision was taken from him when his computer lit up with an incoming Skype call.  
Louis paled even further.  
"Think I need to sit down," he breathed.   
"You are sitting down, love," I said gently, leaning forwards to answer the call.  
"No, no don't- hello, mum," Louis said, crawling to sit next to me.  
To his tangible relief, she was alone.   
"Hello, love. Oh, hello, Harry," Jay said, leaning forwards and doing something, presumably adjusting the camera, "Sorry the girls aren't around. They're out to dinner with Dan."  
"Why aren't you with them?" Louis asked, and it was so, so obvious how scared he was in the way his voice shook.   
"Didn't want to cancel on you. I wasn't sure when we would be able to talk next," she explained.   
Louis nodded and grabbed my hand, below the camera's line of view. His fingers squeezed around mine, so hard it was bordering painful.   
"So, love, anything to update me on?" Jay asked.   
And in that moment, I realized that she knew. Even through the horrible quality of Skype, I could see the sly twist to her smile. I looked over at Louis. He was frozen, his eyes wide. I wondered if he had realized she knew. I decided that he didn't. He squeezed my hand tighter and I swore I could hear the bones in my hand snap.   
Louis stuttered for a few moments, nonsensical mumbling and half-sentences, until he looked at me for help.   
"She knows, Lou," I said quietly, fighting laughter, "Relax."  
"She knows?" he breathed.   
"I know," Jay said, startling him, "Anne called me about a week ago with the news. Really, love, what took you so long to tell me?"  
Louis looked down at our hands and his mouth tightened the way it always did when he was trying not to get emotional.   
He shrugged. I hoped it came across through the camera.   
"Dunno," he mumbled.   
His thumb brushed against the back of my hand before he let go completely.   
"Harry, do you think- could you maybe give me a bit of time with me mum?" Louis asked, his voice quivering.   
"Of course. I'll be downstairs. You want me to make you tea or anything?" I asked.  
Louis shook his head, carefully looking at my forehead instead of my eyes.   
"Alright. Nice seeing you, Jay," I said, getting up.  
I tried to lean forwards and kiss Louis once before I left, but he quickly turned back to face the computer and I caught a mouthful of hair instead.   
I tried not to be hurt, but if I shut the door a little harder than was probably necessary, I couldn't be blamed.  
I went down to the kitchen and made Louis tea anyways. I left it on the counter before heading into our sitting room and messing around on my own computer.   
I didn't really accomplish much. I was too distracted.   
Despite the quiet of the house, I couldn't hear Louis upstairs even though I strained my ears as hard as I could.   
I wasn't offended that he needed private time with his mum, I completely understood it. I just couldn't get over the fact that he wouldn't let me kiss him. I wasn't about to snog him in front of Jay, he had to have known that. And what if he had known that? Was he embarrassed to kiss me in front of her? Did he think she would be disgusted by it?   
My thoughts went in circles, climbing over each other and making my head hurt trying to figure them out.  
I wasn't very secure about our relationship and we both knew that. I was still terrified of how much power Louis had over me. I had a hunch that he was just as scared of that as I was.   
But if he knew how afraid I was, why wouldn't he kiss me?  
It all came back to that.  
I knew that I was probably overthinking it, but I couldn't help it. If I had it my way, I would never stop touching him, kissing him. He was worse than any drug I could think of.   
An hour passed.   
I gave up on my computer and just laid on the sofa and tried to stop thinking. I tried to sleep, but I couldn't do that either. I almost decided to cook something but I figured I might just end up ruining it by not paying attention.   
Another hour passed.   
I paced the room and was halfway up the stairs, ready to demand that Louis talk to me when I realized that that was in fact, not a good idea.   
After nearly three hours, I finally heard the door to his room creak open and quiet footsteps heading down the stairs. I didn't turn around when he came into the room, but I kissed his hand when he put it on my shoulder.   
"Can you- look at me, H," he said quietly.   
I turned around and watched him crawl over the top of the sofa to sit next to me. It was less next to me than on top of me, actually.   
"I'm sorry," Louis whispered, wrapping his arms around my neck and burying his face in my throat, "That was stupid."   
I didn't say anything. I had a feeling that he didn't want me to. I just hugged him, my fingers settling into the curve of his back.   
It took me a moment to realize he was crying.   
He shook his head when I tried to ask him what was wrong.   
"Just fucking hold me," he mumbled through his tears, and it was such a Louis thing to say that I almost laughed.   
But then I remembered that something was upsetting him and I stopped.   
"I made you tea. But it's probably gone cold," I said.   
He snorted.   
I laid back, tugging him with me as I went. I swore I could feel him smile.   
"It's so stupid," he said finally.   
"What is? Lou, what's wrong?" I asked, worried.   
"Nothing is, is the thing, innit? Me mum's lovely about it and she said that she'd tell the girls as soon as she can get them together so I wouldn't have to. She said she was going to tell them but she didn't know if I would want them to know yet or not but she's told Dan 'cause he overheard her conversation with your mum," Louis explained, "It's just so perfect, you know? I must be pregnant or something, what am I so emotional for?"   
I laughed out loud that time, glad nothing had gone wrong.   
"All that worrying for nothing," I said.  
He shrugged.   
"So I guess the next step is to tell the rest of the band, then," he said slowly, "And what about our other friends?"   
"Close friends," I said, "Ones who won't tell anybody. Like, well obviously Felix knows, but like, Stan and Nick and those kinds of people."  
Louis nodded.  
"You know, Niall asked me a few weeks ago if we were together and at the time, we weren't, but I think they know something's up," I said.  
Louis sighed, "Yeah. They do. And I mean, Niall and Zayn'll be cool but I'm worried about Liam. He's so protective and I don't know what he'll think about us being together, since it's not really the safest option for our mental health."  
"He wants us to be happy. And I'm so happy right now; I'm assuming you are too. It'll be fine," I assured him.  
"They've all seen us go through a lot of shit. They've got every right to be apprehensive," Louis argued.   
"Never said they didn't. I don't expect them to be totally overjoyed about it. I know they'll have their doubts, just like we did too," I said.  
He rolled partially over so I could see his face. I hated how his eyes were swollen from crying, but I was happy that he had stopped.   
"Kiss?" he asked.  
I snorted and bent my head down awkwardly to do so.   
I loved kissing Louis. I swore he was made for it. He knew exactly how to kiss me, when to bite and when to add a bit of tongue and when to keep it chaste.   
The only problem was that I couldn't get over how amazing it was and it more often than not had me leaving the room to try and calm myself down.   
He kept it relaxed though, nipping at my lip quickly before returning to the slow, easy kisses that I was so fond of. I could kiss him for hours and when he let me actually touch him, it was a whole different story. I knew not to go below his waist, but it was enough. I was obsessed with the feel of the skin of his back and chest under my hands and I knew, I knew he liked it when I played with his hair.   
The best was the few times when I could get these little noises out of him. They weren't much, just soft sighs and once, a quiet, barely-there moan. I'd never seen him blush so hard and unfortunately, I'd had to run upstairs because it wasn't the only thing hard.   
It was so pathetic, how easily I got worked up, but it wasn't horribly embarrassing. Louis was wonderful about it, like he was with everything.   
"You know, me mum wants us to come down for a visit," Louis said finally, pulling away.   
I took a moment to process what he had said, drunk off of him.   
"Okay. Now will you quit talking about your mum and keep kissing me?" I asked.   
He raised his eyebrows.   
"Can you handle that?" he asked.  
He rocked his hips down, a quick, unexpected moment. It was bold for him and I watched him carefully, wondering why he had done it.   
I knew I was hard. I just had hoped he wouldn't notice.   
"It's fine," I said quickly.   
Louis snorted and sat up on his knees.   
"Calm down a bit," he said, "I won't even banish you this time."  
I laughed and sat up with him.  
"To what do I owe this honor, then?" I asked.  
Louis shrugged, his expression turning a little more troubled.   
"I need to get used to the fact you've got a dick and dicks get hard at some point, don't I? Don't think I don't notice in the morning," he said, his mouth quirking up a little.  
"Louis, if you're not comfortable-" I said.  
He shook his head, cutting me off.  
"I'll never know what I'm comfortable with if I don't push it, will I?" he said.  
"Not quite sure that's the best way to go about it. I don't want you pushing it too much," I said.   
He shrugged.  
"It's the way I want to do it," he said.   
I nodded carefully, not fully agreeing with him, but letting him have it.   
"Look. I'm calm. Now will you kiss me?" I asked.  
Louis laughed, sending me a bright smile. My chest ached.   
"You're insatiable," he teased.  
But he kissed me anyways.


	26. Chapter 26

Louis' POV 

Within a day, Lottie called me.   
She'd always had a bit of a crush on Harry and naturally, she wasn't very pleased that I had stolen him from her.   
But she ended the call telling me that she was glad that I was happy.   
And I was.   
Harry spent a few days with Felix and it was bizarre, how much I missed him. I'd always missed Eleanor when we were apart of course, but it was different with Harry, stronger.   
I found myself constantly texting him and I called him before I went to bed at night. It was disgustingly cute.   
He brought Felix over one day, explaining that as much as he had wanted time with me, Felix needed to get out of his house for a while. I knew about his sister and his parents, so I let it happen. It didn't make it any more ideal though.   
Sure, Felix and I had bonded slightly over our phone call, but it didn't make me like him any more. And with him over, Harry was hyper-aware of what he did with me. The only time I got to kiss him the entire night was when Felix went to the toilet. Harry was just as clingy as I was and the few minutes he got to touch me were frantic, desperate to get in as much as we could.   
"I can't do this to him," he murmured between kisses, "His feelings matter too, you know. Don't want to rub it in his face that I've got you."   
I mumbled something unintelligible.  
Much to my distaste, he stopped whenever we heard Felix coming back. I shuffled off of his lap, breathing hard.   
When Felix came into the room, he gave us a tight smile. It was incredibly obvious that we hadn't just been sitting around and chatting while he had been gone. Harry had this stupid, love-drunk smile on his face and that was enough to give it away, much less the way his hair was messed up and the way his mouth was much darker than normal.  
"You know, I do know you guys are together. You don't have to pretend you aren't in front of me," Felix said, sitting down.  
I immediatly grabbed Harry's hand. I knew he was mine, but I still didn't appreciate the way he acted with Felix. Harry didn't appreciate the jealousy, but I supposed he would just have to deal with it.   
I didn't really hold back from there. There was nothing much that the three of us shared an interested in, so we put in one of Harry's horribly sweet romance movies.   
I could feel Felix staring daggers at me when I spent the majority of the movie finding ways to keep Harry's attention. I ran my hand up his thigh and kissed his neck, played with his hair and even nipped at his ear when he started to talk to Felix.   
"You're being annoying," he muttered, batting my hands away.   
"So is he," I hissed.   
Felix gave me a look. I hadn't really tried to be quiet.   
"Well if you don't want to be around us, you can leave," Harry snapped.   
"You're going to kick me out of my own house?" I snorted.   
He rolled his eyes.   
"I meant go upstairs or something. Felix is my friend and I'm sorry you don't want me to have other friends, but I do," he spat.   
I blinked.   
"That's not what I...," I said slowly, then scowled, "Whatever."  
I didn't go upstairs. I didn't want to give Felix that satisfaction. Instead, I got up to get a glass of water and when I got back, sat as far away from Harry as I could. I felt more than saw him glare at me.   
When the movie was over, Felix left. I figured that he had been planning to stay longer but didn't want to with me around.   
I heard them talking quietly by the door and ignored Felix when he called goodbye to me.   
Finally I heard Harry slam the door and a second later, he was in front of me.   
"Are you happy now?" he snarled, "Now that he's gone?"  
I looked determinedly at his feet.   
"What was that, Louis? I get you don't like him and you get jealous but was it really necessary to rub me in his face? God, you're such a child sometimes!" he yelled, "Look, I'm not saying you have to like him, just don't be so bloody inconsiderate! It always hurt when I saw you with Eleanor and I know you don't like that, so why do you intentionally do it to him? I've always been okay when you're with Stan or any of your other friends, so why can't you be okay with him? Am I not allowed to have friends?"   
I tried to blink away the tears in my eyes when I looked up at him, but the way his expression softened, just slightly, for a moment told me that he wasn't convinced.   
"My friends aren't in love with me," I said.   
Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair.   
"Louis, he's my best friend," he said, "Can't you give me that?"   
"Ouch," I muttered.  
"He's my best friend but you're my boyfriend, Lou, you're like one of my favorite people ever," he said, and for a moment, it sounded pleading, "Louis, please. Why don't you like him, anyways? Other than you don't like that he's in love with me."  
I shrugged and picked at a loose thread on my sofa.   
"Louis," Harry repeated, sitting down next to me.   
"He replaced me," I mumbled, "You know he did. Like Cher says, 'everything you and I did first, now you're doing them with her' but it's a him in this case. It's not fair. You ignored me for six months and you came back with a new best friend."  
"Louis, he gave me what I needed at the time. Now you're what I need and he knows that. But I still need him too," Harry explained, trying and somewhat failing to pull me into his lap.   
"Can we just drop this?" I asked, "I'm hungry. And you haven't eaten much today."   
I couldn't take much more of the look on Harry's face or how upset with me he sounded. I knew I was being stupid but I couldn't help it.   
Harry sighed and nodded. He kissed my shoulder.   
"I love you," he murmured, "And I love him. I just want you both to be happy."  
"I know," I said, twisting a strand of his hair around my finger.   
"I'm sorry," he added, "I didn't mean to yell."  
"You had every right. And I'm sorry too," I said, "Now go make food."  
Harry laughed and only hesitated a moment before kissing me. He was improving.   
"I really love you," he said quietly, "Like, I really, really love you."  
"I really, really, really love you, then," I countered.  
A slow smile spread across his face and he snorted.   
"We are not doing this," he mumbled, but when he looked at me, his eyes were bright and his cheeks were pink.   
"You're such a sap," I said, untangling me from him and standing up, "Now, seriously. Make me food."  
***  
Three days later and we were having a barbeque at Niall's house to celebrate the upcoming tour. It was just the five of us. Liam had wanted to invite everyone, the musicians and the crew, but Niall had said he had just wanted it to be us.   
I kissed Harry before we got out of his car and he gave me the stupidly in love smile that he gave me every time I kissed him, without fail. He'd told me once that he had no idea why Eleanor had ever broken up with me when I was so amazing. I had proceeded to tell him to never bring her up again when he had his tongue in my mouth.   
I let go of his hand when Niall opened the door and waved us in but I had a hunch that he had seen something when his grin was even bigger than usual.   
We were the last ones there, which wasn't a surprise. Harry had almost refused to let go of me before we had left my house. It was very, very difficult to stop kissing him once I started. A quick peck on his cheek could turn into hours of just kissing him. I was so pathetic.  
Niall gave me a look when I sat down all but on top of Harry but I pretended not to see it. I squeezed Harry's hip when I made sure nobody was looking and he turned to smile at me.   
I eyed the beer that Niall held. I wasn't insulted or anything; I didn't want to keep them from having fun. It just took me back a moment to the time when cheap beer and strong liquor seemed like the only things keeping me alive.   
I didn't want it, was the thing. I honestly didn't.   
I must have stared too long. Harry caught on to it and narrowed his eyes.   
"Niall," he said, his voice low, "Don't you think that's not a great choice?"  
Niall blinked at him, confused.   
Liam and Zayn walked in together from somewhere in Niall's house, probably the kitchen. They were holding their own beers too.   
Harry scowled.   
"Do you remember when you told me I couldn't drink because I had to support Louis?" he said flippantly, settling back on the couch.   
Liam glanced at the bottle in his hand and then back at me.  
"Oh, shit, Louis I'm so sorry. I didn't even notice," he said quickly, "Here, um. Niall, Zayn give those to me- I'll throw them away."  
"No," I snapped, and a lot more loudly than I had meant to.   
Liam froze.   
"I mean, no," I said again, more quietly, "Don't. I'm fine. I really don't mind."  
"No, Louis. Really, it's okay. It's rude, I'm so sorry," Niall said.   
"Niall, drink the fucking beer and shut up," I said, rolling my eyes.  
He sat down.   
"Look. I don't want it. I really don't. I have no craving for it. I'm fine, okay? Seriously, I'm better off if you pretend like nothing's wrong with me," I added, "It's uncomfortable like this."   
Liam studied me, then deciding that I was being honest, sat down next to Niall.   
I felt the burn of Harry's gaze on the back of my head but I purposely avoided it.   
"Really, Louis. If you decide you don't like it, then-"  
I silenced Liam with a look that decidedly shut him up.   
Zayn sat down next to me and carelessly threw his legs over my lap.  
"Where've you even been this week? Hardly have heard anything from you," he said.   
I could almost hear Harry's smirk and he dug his fingers into my back, which his hand was stuck behind.   
I shrugged and Zayn nodded, taking it as an answer. He couldn't really say anything; he usually disappeared during breaks and only resurfaced when they were over.   
Niall glanced at the clock.   
"Gonna go start the meat. You lads are welcome to do whatever; you know that," he said, getting.   
"FIFA?" Liam suggested.  
I remembered the last time we had tried to play it together. I hadn't wanted to. Harry had been absolutely cruel the entire night and I had been tired and sad. And now, I was destroying him at it. And I was happy and so was he.   
He turned to me when the game ended and I nearly leaned forwards to kiss the pout off his face. I caught myself, but not before he noticed. His eyebrows furrowed and he leaned back a little when I did. I prayed that Liam and Zayn hadn't noticed. I glanced at them quickly and Zayn smiled back, but it didn't look like anything unusual.   
"Sorry," I murmured to Harry when we tossed them the controllers, "Just forgot for a second."  
"Thought you wanted them to know," he said, his pinky curling around mine.   
"I do. Just...not like that, you know? What if we looked over and they were having a bit of a snog with absolutely no warning?" I said.   
Harry snorted, moving his hand away when Niall came into the room.   
"Food's ready, lads. Just eat in here. I haven't played yet," he said.   
There were times that Harry had trouble eating, even still. It wasn't that he didn't want to eat. It was just if he ate too much or the food was too rich or heavy in his stomach. He would get horrible stomach cramps and I hated not being able to do anything about it but try to massage them away and let him lay in my lap.   
I expected the barbeque to be okay, but I didn't reprimand him when he took a little less than I would have liked him to. He handed me a glass of water and I looked quickly at the others before swallowing the pills that I was supposed to. I had three- ones for anxiety, ones for depression, and ones to help with the violent mood swings I had. I hadn't had one in a while, but I was supposed to stay on them for a while anyways. Anxiety was to be taken once a day, depression twice, and the mood swings once. I had other anxiety medication to take if I was ever feeling especially panicky but I really never did.  
There were times when Harry would leave to go back to Felix's and I'd find myself overthinking everything, but that was basically the worst it would get.  
I balanced my plate carefully in my lap when I sat down and handed Harry the beer I had gotten for him from the kitchen. I knew he wouldn't get it himself with me around.   
He narrowed his eyes.   
"No," he said.  
"Take it. You're allowed to have fun, you know," I said.   
Harry snorted, "I already am having fun. I don't want it."  
"H, I watched you almost take one. Please just drink it; I know you want to," I sighed, "Stop treating me like I'm so fragile."  
Harry looked like he was about the say something but he stopped. He took the beer from me with his jaw right and mouth pressed into a thin line.   
He opened it and took a sip, then put it on the ground next to him and ignored it. I rolled my eyes.   
"You're being annoying," I said.  
"So are you," he countered.  
I was supposed to be irritated, I knew that, but something about him made me smile and shake my head.  
"You're such a pain," I murmured.   
"I'm your pain, though," he said.  
And just like that, everything was okay again.   
"Yeah, you are," I agreed, "And I'm yours."  
Harry grinned.   
I wanted to kiss him so much.   
"You're the best kind of pain," he said.  
"Hurts so good?" I asked, and he laughed, that sharp cackle that he always did when he found something exceptionally funny.   
"Something funny, lads?" Liam asked.  
Harry shook his head, still laughing to himself.   
"It wasn't that funny," I said.  
"Yes it was," he replied.   
Liam gave us a bemused look before turning back to the game that Niall and Zayn were viciously playing.   
Harry set down his empty plate and took mine to set it down on top of it. Lovely boy, he was.   
"Do you want anymore?" I asked.  
He shook his head.   
"Lads, if you don't want any more, we'll take the plates to the kitchen," I said.  
Harry stared at me and I gave him a pointed look.   
"Are you feeling okay, Louis?" Niall asked, pausing the game, "Since when do you ever clean things up?"  
I shrugged.   
He handed me his plate slowly, like I might bite him or something. Liam and Zayn did the same, looking incredibly confused.   
Harry collected their bottles and promised to bring them new ones.   
I tossed the plates into the sink and once Harry set the bottles into Niall's recycling container, I walked towards him, grinning.  
"What?" he asked.   
I didn't reply.   
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my face into his shoulder.   
"You're very lovely," I mumbled.   
His hands carefully rested on my lower back, not daring to go any further.   
"Can I kiss you?" Harry asked.   
"You don't need to ask, love. Why do you think I made you come in here with me?" I asked.  
Harry smiled, catching on.   
"How long do you think we have?" he asked.  
I shrugged.   
"They probably won't notice for a while. They're too absorbed in their game. We have a few minutes," I said.   
He nodded.   
"So I can?" he asked.   
"Yes, you dork," I snorted.   
His smile only grew bigger. It made it hard to kiss him for the first few moments, but I didn't mind. I was smiling just as hard.   
"Love you," he sighed between kisses.   
"Yeah?" I asked, "I love you too."  
One of his hands ran up and down my back and over my side and the other traced the edge of my jaw.   
I really didn't mind being touched, I didn't. It was just where he touched that mattered to me.   
"Perfect," Harry murmured.   
I hummed a indistinguishable reply but he must have felt my face heat up. He laughed.  
"Quit it. I can't kiss you when you're laughing," I complained.   
"Maybe I don't want you to kiss me," he said.  
"Bullshit, Styles," I snorted, "You always want to kiss me."  
"True," he said, almost dreamily.   
He leaned in again and sighed when I kissed him back.   
I backed up and hopped up onto Niall's counter. Harry settled in between my legs. A strange look passed over his face but it was gone as quickly as it had come.   
"How much longer, do you think?" he asked.   
"I don't care," I muttered, curling my fingers into his hair the way I knew he liked.   
The way he closed his eyes for a moment proved me right.   
"God," he said, his grip on my back tightening when I opened my mouth and let him slip his tongue in.   
We were venturing into dangerous territory and I knew it. Harry got wound up so easily and it was risky, letting him kiss me like this.   
Someone clearing their throat stopped it from getting too far, luckily.  
Or rather, unluckily, judging by the expression on Liam's face.   
Harry turned bright red and stepped away from me.   
"Hi," he said.   
"Hi," Liam replied slowly, "Louis, can I talk to you for a second?"   
My stomach twisted. I knew it couldn't be good.   
"Yeah," I said anyways, "Love, go back with the others, okay? I'll just be a minute."  
Harry nodded and I kissed him quickly before hopping down from the counter.   
Liam dragged me down a hallway before all but shoving me away from him.  
"What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Louis?" he hissed, "Leading him on like that. How could you be so irresponsible? He isn't your play toy, Louis, do you know how much damage this'll cause? Do you care?"  
I winced.   
"Liam, he's not my play toy. He's my boyfriend, okay?" I snapped.  
I stepped away when Liam's face went so red he looked like he might explode.   
"Are you joking? You've got to be! Louis, you're not- Jesus Christ, what the hell do you think you're doing? Neither of you are fit to be in a relationship, much less with each other! Louis, you don't have feelings for him, you know that! Whatever you think you might feel, it's just because you're so dependent on him, don't you know that? And once you realize that, you'll destroy him! You're leading him on. You've got to stop this right now," he yelled, "Even if you did have feelings for him, it wouldn't end well! You get in a fight or break up and he could try and kill himself!"  
"You have no idea what you're saying! You don't think I don't know the risks? After we first got together, we spent entire days talking about it and whether or not it's safe and the risk involved with it. Fucking hell, Liam, I'm in love with him, okay? I know you think I'm tricking myself into it, but I'm not! You don't know what it's like so stop acting like you do! I'm sorry you had to find out like that, but I'm in love with Harry and he's my boyfriend and if you can't accept that, deal with it, because it's not changing," I spat.   
"When did you first get together?" Liam asked, his voice low.   
"Few weeks ago," I answered carefully.  
"And you didn't think you maybe should tell us? Did you not want us to know? Are you scared? Harry doesn't deserve that, Louis! You are literally the worst person for him to be in a relationship with, you know that? You can ruin him so easily and I don't like it," Liam growled.  
I tried to blink away the burn in my eyes but it was useless. His words hurt. Especially because I knew they were true.   
"I doubt Niall or Zayn will like it either, and what then, Louis? Is it worth breaking the band apart? Is it worth breaking Harry if something goes wrong? What about when you decide you're really not in love with him after all? I can't believe you, Louis. I would have thought a lot better than you leading Harry on like this. Don't tell me you suddenly just realized you're in love with him after all this time because that is such bullshit, Louis, don't even try. That's not realistic. What, have you really been in love with this whole time but not known it? Was Eleanor just a cover-up? Funny, Louis, really funny. God, just go break up with him while you can, because you and I both know this is such bullshit," Liam continued.   
"You know, Liam, this isn't just me saying Harry and I are in a relationship, which is true, believe me. I started having feelings for him a few months ago, actually, when I realized I'd do anything for him and I wouldn't do that for anybody else. It just took me a while of making sure that I really do love him and I do, okay? I'm sorry it's so hard for you to believe. But this isn't just about that! I'm coming out to you too, you know. I'm not straight, obviously. And I'd love for you to support that because it's not an easy thing to do and what I'm hearing is you laughing at my sexuality and saying it's a joke and a lie and I don't appreciate that, okay? So thanks a lot, thanks for the support and making this a lot harder than it needs to be," I said.   
I hated the way my voice wavered and the way his expression softened when he saw the tears in my eyes.  
"Lou, I didn't see it like that, I'm so s-"  
"Go fuck yourself," I said, pushing past him.   
"Louis," he sighed.   
"Go fuck yourself."

Harry's POV 

"So you and Louis," Niall said as soon as I sat down.  
I jumped.   
"What?" I asked.   
"You and Louis. You're together now, correct?" he said slowly, but he was grinning.  
"Um. Yeah. Uh, sorry if it's kind of out of blue," I said.   
"Please mate, you weren't fooling anybody. Me and Zayn had a bet going on about when it would happen. And I believe I won. Zayn said it'd be longer," Niall explained.  
Zayn shook his head, but he was smiling too.   
"Oh," I said dumbly.  
"I saw him kiss you out in his car earlier. Pretty cute," Niall said, nodding to himself.   
"Oh," I said again, "Um."  
"Look, I think it's great. I really do. I'm happy for you," Zayn added.   
"Thanks," I said.   
"Where's your lover, then?" Niall asked.  
"Dunno. Liam asked to talk to him after he, um. He saw us in the kitchen, um, having a bit of a snog, I suppose. Probably wasn't what he was expecting," I said.   
"Ah," Niall said.   
Zayn frowned.   
"He say why he wanted to talk to Louis?" he asked.  
I shook my head.   
"He didn't look very happy. He probably just wanted to make sure it wasn't just some random thing," I said.   
Zayn nodded but he didn't look very sure of it.  
"So, give us all the details, then! How'd it happen?" Niall asked.   
"It was like two weeks ago, first of all. Don't be mad, we wanted to make sure of what we were doing before we told anybody. He made me dance to random songs and then a slow one came on and he kissed me during it and of course I freaked out a little but then he explained everything to me and yeah," I said.   
"Look, he's blushing," Niall cooed.   
"Do your family's know?" Zayn asked.  
I nodded.   
"Anybody else?" he asked.  
"Well you, now. And Felix, of course. But other than that, no. We're taking it pretty slowly," I said.  
Niall started to say something but he was interrupted as Louis stormed into the room and headed for the door.  
"Lou?" I asked.   
"I'm going home," he snapped and I noticed with a start that he was crying.   
He shoved on his shoes and slammed the door behind him. I got up to go after him.  
"Don't," Liam said, walking into the room, "He'll want to be alone."  
"But I-" I started.   
"You know how he gets when he's upset. Just give him a little while," Liam said.  
"What was he so upset for?" I demanded.  
"Sit down," Liam said, and once I obliged he continued, "I was a bit of an asshole to him; I'm sure you'll hear all about it later. But now I want to talk to you. Do you really know what you're getting yourself into?"   
I sighed, "Yeah, I do, actually. I know you're probably worried and I would be too. But Louis and I spent hours talking about what we're doing and what we want. We know the risks. We're willing to take those risks because believe it or not, I'm in love with him and he's in love with me. We're grown ups. I know you're concerned but trust us in this, okay? I'd really like your support and I'm sure Louis would too."   
"I'm pretty sure Louis would like to see me dead right now," Liam muttered, "You know why I'm worried, obviously. I care a lot about you both and I couldn't stand it if this blows up in your faces. If it works out, then I'm really happy for you, H, I am! But understand why I'm so hesitant to believe it will."  
"I understand," I said, "I believe it will and so does Louis and right now that's what matters to us. It would be nice if you would too."  
Liam nodded.   
"I'm sorry for being the asshole," he said, "I am."  
"I'm happy for you," Niall said.   
Zayn nodded in agreement.   
"Can we forget this happened?" Liam asked, "Just give me a little time to process things first."  
I nodded.   
"Come here," he said.  
I stood up and he pulled me in for a hug.   
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.  
"I'm pretty sure I'm not the one you should apologize to. What did you even say to Louis?" I asked.  
I couldn't stop thinking about his face and how upset he looked.   
"I, um. I was just surprised and a little angry because I thought he was leading you on and just thought he was in love with you but really isn't and I told him that. And then he brought up that he was coming out to me too and not just saying you two are together and that makes me twice the asshole than I already am, so. I was a piece of shit and I can't imagine he's very pleased right now," Liam sighed.   
"Is he gay, anyways? Or is he like, bi or something?" Niall asked.  
"He says he's pan. Well, I don't think he knows that's the word for it but he said he thinks he's attracted to people regardless of gender, and that's what that is, so," I said.  
"Cool," Zayn said, shrugging, "Just no sex on the bus."  
I snorted, "You know that's not going to happen."  
"Shit, yeah. I didn't even think about that. Is Louis okay with like, sex and everything? After everything that happened?" Niall asked.  
I shook my head.   
"Kissing is okay. I can touch him above the waist. But after that, no. He says he'll ease into it, but I'm okay with whatever. It's the price I have to pay," I said, shrugging.   
"And you're okay with that," Liam said.   
"Yeah. Why not? Sure, there's eventually going to be a bit of sexual frustration but I'm not going to like, leave him over it. I'll do what he's comfortable with and he'll do the same for me," I said.  
Liam nodded.   
"I do wish I could suck him off though," I said absently.   
They all groaned and a pillow was thrown at my head. I laughed.   
It was true, though. I could only imagine it. I tried to avoid doing so, especially in a public setting.  
The rest of the night was easy. Liam was a little quiet, he felt guilty, but other than that, everything felt normal.  
"I think I'm going to head out," I said eventually.  
We hugged goodbye and they all whispered how happy they were for me. Liam told me to tell Louis that he was sorry and to call him.  
I realized Louis had taken his car when I walked outside, so I had to go back in and ask Liam for a ride.   
He dropped me off, deciding that going in and apologizing directly probably wasn't a good idea.   
I went inside and found Louis asleep upstairs in his room. I pulled his phone out of his hand- he'd apparently been on the phone with his mum- and set it down on his nightstand. His anxiety medication was opened next to it and I frowned, screwing the cap back on.   
I undressed quietly and crawled into bed. Louis had never been one for spooning; he'd always preferred to sleep facing each other, even back on the X Factor when we'd sleep together just for the sake of it. But I knew that sometimes when he was upset, he liked to just be held.   
He woke up when I shifted to pull the blankets around me.  
"Hi," he said softly, his voice a little raspy.   
"Hi," I said, "Liam's really sorry, you know."   
Louis tensed and his fingers came up to hold the hand that was draped over his hip.   
"He's an asshole," he mumbled.   
I kissed his shoulder.   
"Yeah. But he's got a reason to be worried. Niall and Zayn are happy though. I think Liam'll come around pretty quickly," I said.  
Louis nodded and that was that.


	27. Chapter 27

Louis' POV

Waking up wasn't particularly pleasant. Harry was pressed against my back and so was his very obvious morning wood. Out of curiosity, I rocked back. He whined, his breath hot against my ear.   
Nope, I decided, I was definetely not okay with it. His dick against my arse made me incredibly uncomfortable.   
I crawled out of bed, carefully removing myself from his grip.   
I went downstairs and made myself some tea, leaving the kettle on for when Harry got up.   
I hated the fact that I couldn't be normal, that I was afraid of sex. It was a rational fear and besides, Eleanor and I had waited nearly a year until our first time together. I didn't understand why it seemed so important this time.   
I took my medication, making a face to myself. I really didn't like it all that much, but as far as I was concerned, they were keeping me from going insane like I had been. There was more to it, I knew that, but they helped.   
I texted Zayn and made plans with him. I knew that Harry was planning on going back to Felix's and I really hated being alone. I was afraid of what it could do to me.   
Harry finally came down after a while, giving me a kiss good morning.   
"Woke up and you were gone," he said sleepily.  
I shrugged.  
"I was up for a while. You know how I get sometimes. I got bored," I lied.   
Harry nodded, accepting the excuse.   
He curled up next to me on the sofa and laid his head on my shoulder. I scratched at his hair and he hummed happily.   
"You okay? You were really upset last night," he finally said.   
I'd known it was coming. A flicker of heat stirred in my stomach, angry.   
"Yeah, I think so. I just. I didn't really think about the fact that I'm coming out to the boys too and I didn't really think it bothered me that much but Liam was being such a prick and it just...it was really shitty. It made me feel like he wasn't okay with me not being straight," I mumbled.   
"Louis, of course he is. He's okay with me, isn't he? He knows he overreacted. He just wants what's best for us," Harry said.   
I sighed, "I know. It's okay, I think."  
"You had to use your extra anxiety pills," he pointed out.   
"Yeah. It just got to be a lot all of a sudden. It's not like I'm afraid of my sexuality or of you. No matter how okay with myself I am, there's always a little part that's afraid that people won't accept that, you know? And Liam said he didn't approve and I just kind of lost it," I said.   
"Lou," Harry sighed, reaching for my hand, "I don't have to leave today if you need me around."   
"No. It's okay. I'm spending today with Zayn anyways. Um. I guess I don't know, how are the others with this? They aren't upset, are they?" I asked.  
"Oh, God, no. Niall loves it and apparently he and Zayn made a bet on when we would officially get together. They're really happy for us," Harry said.   
I felt incredibly relieved.   
"Give Liam a few days. It's a lot to process," he said.  
"Why aren't Niall and Zayn having trouble then? It's not fair," I mumbled.  
"Because they already saw it coming. It was a surprise to Liam," he explained.   
"Why can't you just be mad too? Why do you have to be so pleasant and understanding?" I grumbled.   
"Lou," he laughed, "I'm not happy that he was mean to you. I'm mad too. But I can see where he's coming from and I want everyone to get along."  
I couldn't help but smile. His laugh was infectious.   
"By the way, was that tea in the kitchen for me?" Harry asked.  
"Yes. Unless I suddenly decide I want it," I said.  
Harry scrambled off of my lap and darted for the kitchen. I watched him go.   
He came back looking pleased with himself and sat down again, wrapping his foot around my ankle.   
"Very touchy this morning," I commented.   
He shrugged.   
"I'm just happy," he said.   
"Stop being happy," I commanded, but when I kissed him, I was smiling.   
"You're so weird," he said, "And I mean it in the most affectionate way possible."  
I shrugged, leaning over and biting his shoulder.   
It was quiet for a while and it was nice. I always liked a good cuddle and Harry was exceptionally good at it. His fingers traced patterns on my leg and it was soothing.   
"This is a little weird, but Niall wanted to know if sex jokes are okay," he said.   
"Oh," I said.  
"I told him it was up to you," he added, "But as of right now, there's not much to joke about."  
I felt my face heat up.   
"I mean, sure, I guess," I mumbled.  
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said gently.   
"Like you said, there's not much to joke about," I said.   
"So, no?" Harry asked.  
"No. I guess it's okay," I said.  
"Louis if you're not comfortable-" he started.   
"It's not that. It's just like. I hate being reminded that I'm not normal and I can't give you what you want. You were hard this morning when I woke up and I got up because I didn't like it," I admitted, "Well. I did. But I didn't. It's complicated."  
Harry stared at me.   
"Jesus fuck," he muttered.   
I shifted away from him, pressing myself against the arm of the sofa as much as I could.   
"Louis, I don't- I don't know what I can say to make you understand, you know? Even if this were a normal relationship, we probably wouldn't have done anything yet, hell, we probably wouldn't be together as much as we are and sleep together almost every night! I understand, Louis. I don't know if I'd be ready even if you were. I don't know if I want it yet. I mean, I do, of course I do. I love you more than anything and you're bloody fit- I probably know all of our lookalike porn better than most of our fans and I've been wanking to the thought of you since I was sixteen- but what I'm trying to get at is that I don't care if you're never ready because I won't want it until you want it. There's nothing sexy about trying to have sex with you and knowing that you don't know if want it, okay? I'm comfortable with what you're comfortable with," he said.   
I didn't reply immediatly. I didn't know if I could, not around the massive lump in my throat.   
"Lou?" Harry asked, looking concerned.   
And of bloody course I started to cry, all but throwing myself at him.   
"Louis," he sighed, pulling me tight against him.   
It was undescribable, how much I loved him. He seemed to always know what to do and say and it threw me off because I had no idea how to respond. Harry knew me well but sometimes I wondered if maybe he couldn't read my mind.   
He let me stay in his lap for a while until I calmed down. I didn't have any plans on going anywhere after that, though. He was warm and comfortable.   
"You okay?" he asked.  
I nodded.   
"Kind of happy tears," I mumbled, "Not totally, but. Kind of."  
"I love you," he said, stroking my back.   
"I love you too. Lots," I said.   
"You know I'll never, ever do anything to you that I'm not 100% certain you want me to do. I won't ever hurt you or touch you where you don't want me to touch of make you do something you aren't comfortable with. I swear, Louis, if you're never comfortable with anything more than this, I'm perfectly content," Harry murmured, his voice quiet and soothing.   
I bit down on my lip to keep myself from crying again.   
"You're perfect," I sniffed, "Really. I want to do so much with you but I just can't, you know?"  
"I know," he said quietly.   
We spent most of the day like that, curled together on the sofa. We made fun of shows on the television and spent the majority of them just lazily kissing each other.   
At one point his fingers dipped below the hem of my pants, just barely, and I shivered, not entirely in a bad way. He immediatly moved his hand once he realized and I was a little torn on how I felt about it.   
It was the middle of Keeping Up With the Kardashians- I had no idea why it was on, but I was too absorbed in Harry to really notice- when I felt him starting to get hard against my hip.   
"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, moving to get off of me.   
"No," I said quickly, "Um. Like this."  
I shifted slightly and pulled him down so his hips were pressed tight against my thigh.   
He stared at me, his eyes wide.   
"Seriously?" he asked, "Lou, no. You're not..."   
I shook my head.   
"Let me at least do this," I said, "It's not...I don't think it's too much. Not like this."  
"You'll tell me to stop if it gets too much," Harry said, his voice low.   
In lieu of a response, I shifted my thigh upwards and he closed his eyes for a moment.   
"You'll tell me to stop if it gets too much," Harry repeated, his hands coming down on my waist to keep me from moving.   
"Yes, yes, fine Harry, just come on," I said quickly.   
I thought I would be okay with it. I wasn't naked and neither was he. He wasn't touching me anywhere I didn't want to be touched and I could control it, to an extent. I needed to do something for him. I couldn't explain why and I knew he wouldn't understand, but I just had to.   
Harry nodded, his eyes dark with something I hadn't seen before.   
"God, I love you," he muttered, and his hips finally started to move, rocking downwards in slow, drawn-out movements.   
He tucked his face into my neck and held himself up on his elbows, braced on either side of my chest. His breath was hot and quick on my skin and I shut my eyes, digging my fingers into his back.   
It felt good, was the thing. I hated how I couldn't help but get hard too; it would be weird if I hadn't, with the pressure of his body.   
"Lou," he said quietly, his voice low and hushed, "Lou, this is so ridiculous but I'm so close, is that okay?"   
I blinked.   
"Thought your stamina would be a bit better," I said, joking weakly.   
"God, so did I, but...fuck all it is is me humping your leg like a fucking animal and it feels so good and I can't imagine how everything else-" he said quickly.   
I knew the second he started to come. His teeth sank into my neck in an effort to keep himself quiet and his body shook with it. Still, little noises slipped past his mouth and I pulled him up to kiss me.   
"Fuck," he whispered, pulling away after a little while, "Are you okay?"  
I nodded.   
I wasn't entirely sure if I was, but at the moment I wasn't having a mental breakdown, so I deemed myself alright.   
"You're-" he said.  
I nodded again.   
"Let me suck you off," he said suddenly, almost pleading, "Lou, I really want to, let me suck you off."  
"No," I said, shoving him away, "Absolutely not."  
Harry made a face.   
"Why not? Please, I want to. I can't stop thinking about it, I'd make it so good for you," he said.   
"I won't let you do that. It's disgusting and it hurts and you've never done it before, Harry, you don't know what it's like. Absolutely not," I snapped.   
"Louis," he said gently, "Okay. I won't. Can't I do anything? I just want to make it good for you too."  
"I'm fine," I said shortly.   
"Okay," he said slowly, "Can I kiss you?"   
I thought about it.   
"Go change first," I said quietly, "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."  
He nodded.   
I used the time without him to really think about it. My head was an absolute mess and my throat started to ache. For the first time in a while, I felt myself wanting a drink. I thought that it might be easier to think with one.   
Before I could put anymore thought into it, Harry's hand was resting on my shoulder and he climbed over the back of the couch to sit next to me.   
"You could have walked around," I said.  
"Yeah," he agreed.  
"You climbed over anyways," I said.  
"Yeah," he agreed.  
Harry put his head on my shoulder and grabbed my hand.   
"Are you okay?" he asked.   
"I think so," I said honestly.   
"What do you mean, you think so?" he asked.   
"I don't know what I mean. I'm fine right now and I can't imagine that I'll be any less fine ten minutes from now. It's just different," I said.   
"I just want you to be okay," Harry said quietly.   
"I want me to be okay too. And I think I am," I said.   
"Do you need me to leave tonight or do you need me to stay or what?" he asked.  
I shrugged.  
"You were going to leave, weren't you?" I asked.  
"Yeah. But if you want me to stay, I will," Harry replied and I knew he meant it.   
"H, you're never there anymore. You should leave if you want. Felix deserves your company too," I said, "You're a pretty decent guy. You have to spread the love."  
He smiled.   
"I just don't want to leave you alone if you're not okay, you know? Like I know you're saying you're okay but I never really know with you," he said.  
"Harry, all you did was dry-hump my leg for like five minutes. I'm fine. I can take a little bit more than you think I can," I said.   
He huffed against my collarbone and I squirmed when it tickled.   
"If it helps, you've got a very nice leg," Harry said.  
I laughed.   
"Good thing," I said.   
"Not to be a hormonal teenager, but would you be okay if that happened again?" he asked.  
I snorted, "Yes. For now. Maybe we'll progress to actually taking some clothes off eventually, like ten years from now."  
"Don't be so hard on yourself," he said.  
"I'm not. It was a joke," I said, but I had to admit that it was a little bit self-deprecating.   
Harry shrugged.   
"I don't want to bring up any sore subjects but when I asked to suck you off," he said slowly.   
"You and I think about things differently. You might think it's hot. I don't. I think it's disgusting and scary, to be honest," I said shortly.   
"Lou, you had a bad experience," Harry protested.   
"And I'm not about to let you have one," I said, "You don't know what it's like. Not like you ever gave Taylor Swift a blowjob."   
Her name brought back unpleasant memories.   
Harry stiffened and I had to ask, "When you told me you had sex with her. Were you serious or did you just say it to make me angry?"   
He sat up and dropped my hand. I knew the answer before he even said it.   
"Yeah. I did. A bunch of times, actually. It was- it was a distraction, Lou. I knew I wasn't going to last a lot longer if I kept on the way I was, and I needed something to keep me from hurting quite so much. And she worked. Granted, when she figured it out, she wasn't happy, but it worked for a while," he said.  
He sounded the way a dog looks when it gets caught doing something it shouldn't- ashamed.   
"Um. I'm still clean, if it helps," Harry added quickly, like it even mattered, "We used condoms obviously, but I still get tested. Just, you know, just in case."  
I nodded, trying hard not to be endeared.   
"I never. It never meant anything, not to me. I, um. I'd have to think of you to even get it up, actually. I hated it. But she was there," he added weakly.   
"And I wasn't," I finished.   
"Yeah," he said, "You know I. Like, you know I don't blame you, right?"   
"There's a whole lot of things to blame me for. You've got to be more specific," I said.   
Harry sighed and wrapped his arm around me.   
"None of it," he said.   
I had to laugh. I genuinely laughed.   
"Bullshit, Harry," I said, "You can't honestly say I did nothing wrong. I know you might think that I'm some perfectly innocent angel or something, but think about it."  
He made a face.   
"No, really," he said.   
"Harry. Seriously? Do you not remember how much shit I said to you? I was an absolute twat sometimes, you can't honestly say that I wasn't," I said.   
It was almost comical.   
Harry didn't say anything and I struggled not to slap him.   
"You're killing me," I groaned.  
He shrugged and the bastard was grinning, for the love of God.   
"I won't kiss you for the rest of the day," I threatened.  
"That would be just as much of a punishment to you as it would be to me," Harry pointed out.   
The dimples were out full-force. He was insufferable.   
"God, I fucking love you and I've got no idea why," I said, leaning over and biting his ear.  
He swatted me away.  
"Ow, that hurt, you twat," he grumbled, pouting at me.  
So of course I bit his lip too.   
"What are you, some kind of vampire?" he asked.  
I bared my teeth at him.   
"Come here," he laughed, pulling me on to his lap.   
I almost kneed him when I went to straddle him, but he flinched out of the way in time.   
"If you get hard, Styles, I'll rip your dick off," I threatened, "It's hardly been ten minutes."   
Harry rolled his eyes.   
"Depends. If you're planning on playing dirty then I'm probably going to get hard. Teenage libido," he said, and then added as an afterthought, "Tomlinson."  
"Dirty," I repeated.   
"Yeah," he said, his hands resting on my lower back.   
"I'm fuckin' squeaky-clean," I said, making to slap him.   
I just ended up lightly patting his cheek and getting caught up in the way his jawline felt against my fingertips.  
"Of course," Harry agreed, and I felt the vibrations of his laugh when I moved my fingers down to his throat.   
I smiled.   
"What?" he asked.  
I shrugged.   
"You're rather pretty, you know?" I said.   
He blinked. And then a smile spread over his face.   
"Yeah. Not quite so much as you, though. I've got the prettiest in all the world," Harry said.   
I grinned.   
"Better make it in all the universe if you ever want to kiss me," I said.  
"Really, though. Are we going anywhere with this bit of banter or what? I've got places to go, people to see. Come on, Tommo. I didn't take you for one to be such a bloody tease," Harry said.   
"Oh, come off of it. You know I'm the biggest fucking tease there is," I said, "Who've you got to see that's better than me, anyhow?"  
I pulled on his hair when he took too long to reply. Which really was only a second or so, but. It was still too long.   
"You know I love it rough," he said.   
I laughed.   
"Baby, I'll fuck you up," I snorted.   
Harry didn't have much else to say to that, just mumbled a quick, "God, I love you," and pulled me down with a hand on the back of my neck to kiss me.  
It was a short kiss, all things considered, but dirty nonetheless.   
His eyes were dark when I pulled back and his hand tightened on my hip.   
"I don't want to know what you're thinking," I said drily.   
"You probably already know," Harry said easily, nosing at my neck and biting down quickly, "You spread out on the bed, in the shower, against the wall, god, and if we couldn't make it to bed, it'd be on the floor."  
I swallowed hard and felt myself flush, my face heating up.   
"You can't just say that," I snapped.   
"I just did," he said, kissing along the line of my throat.   
"You make me want so much," I said quietly, half-hoping he wouldn't hear.   
"Yeah?" Harry asked, because of course he had.   
"A lot more than I can do," I admitted as his fingers slipped up the back of my shirt.   
"That's fine," he said.  
"You don't understand," I huffed, "Come on, big boy, you've got to get to Felix's."  
I batted his wandering hands away and removed myself from his lap. It was amazing, how much more confident Harry was getting. Sometimes he would still hesitate before kissing or touching me, but those times were becoming fewer and further between.   
He pouted at me.   
I raised my eyebrows.   
"You would know I'm big," Harry finally said.   
I swatted him and he laughed.

Harry's POV 

I waved hello to Addy and she squealed at me when I found her in their kitchen.   
"What're you doing in here?" I asked, then raised my voice, "Felix?"  
He poked his head in and then came into the kitchen, smiling.   
"Surprised you showed up," he said, kissing me quickly on the cheek.   
I shrugged.   
"Was just about to make her one of those little things of oatmeal. Want one?" Felix asked.  
I shook my head.   
"I ate with Louis," I explained.   
Louis had demanded I make him something before I left and then made me stay and eat with him. I didn't mind. He let me feed him once and hold his hand the entire time.   
Felix nodded.   
"How is the lovely lad?" he asked.  
Felix hadn't been pleased about how Louis had treated him when he had come over the one day, but he wasn't one to be bitter about things. Louis wasn't one of his favorite people, considering he was dating me, but Felix genuinely did want to know how he was.   
"Fine. I don't think he's spoken to Liam yet, but he can be stubborn," I said.  
Felix nodded, then smirked.   
"Nice lovebite you've got there," he said.   
I didn't know where it was, but Louis had a habit of biting me to get my attention. I wasn't sure if it was an actual lovebite or if it was just from one of those times.   
"You're blushing," he said, "Styles, if you get hard in front of my sister."  
I shook my head.   
"No, no. You know, that's the second time today I've been threatened if I got hard. I'm sorry I'm young!" I said.  
Felix laughed and took a spoonful of the oatmeal, thoughtfully debating if it was too hot.   
"Louis threatened you, then? Do I have to beat him up?" he asked, pushing Addy's wheelchair to the table and setting the bowl down.   
"No. Granted, it was after I'd already gotten off, but," I said, shrugging.   
Felix raised his eyebrows.  
For a moment, he bore a striking resemblance to Louis.   
"You got off with him?" he asked, "That's new."  
I knew I was blushing, so I busied myself trying to feed Addy. She let me.   
"It wasn't with him. More like...on him, I guess. He's a bit weird about it, you know that," I explained, getting another spoonful, "I like, not to be blunt, but he let me dry hump his leg, basically."  
"I really didn't need the details and neither did she," Felix said drily.   
"I offered to suck him off afterwards but he wouldn't let me. Progress, though. And I'm okay with whatever he gives me. I just feel weird about not giving him anything in return," I said.   
"Yeah," Felix said, nodding, "I understand that."  
He wiped off Addy's chin with a napkin.   
Felix was great. I knew it hurt when I talked about Louis, but he wanted to be as normal as we could. He hid it pretty well, too. Felix never could hide his grimace though, if I talked to Louis on the phone and told him I loved him.   
"The tour starts, what, like in a week and a half? What am I supposed to do without you then?" Felix asked, carefully changing the topic, "What's Addy supposed to do?"  
"You know, first time I met her I promised her a backstage pass," I said.   
"I know. My parents said they had to put on your CDs for hours when they got home after that," he snorted.   
"The offer still holds, you know. You want to come to a show, Addy?" I asked.  
She flapped her hand at me. I grinned.   
"Do I get to come?" Felix asked, fluttering his eyelashes.   
"Yeah. I expect a poster saying how much you love me, though," I said.   
"I've got tons," he said.   
I rolled my eyes affectionately.   
Later, when their parents were home, Felix and I escaped to his room. His laptop balanced carefully in his lap and he scrolled through Netflix.   
"Your feet are so fucking cold," he complained when I stuck my toes up the leg of his jeans.   
"Your house is cold," I argued.   
"It is not. You were complaining about being hot earlier," he said, kicking my shin when I tried to put my other foot into his jeans.   
"I'm cold now," I said.   
"Your feet are cold," Felix said, "Get a bloody blanket or something."  
"I'm comfortable here," I said.   
"You are so annoying," he grumbled.   
My phone vibrated and we both knew without looking that it would be Louis. It was late and he always texted me goodnight when he went to bed.   
I replied, even adding an 'I love you' for good measure.   
He responded a few seconds later and it went back and forth for a few minutes before Felix accidentally clicked on something and a loud noise from his computer made me jump.   
"Sorry," he muttered, clicking out of it, "How's the boyfriend?"  
"Good. Getting ready for bed," I said, throwing my legs over his, "He wanted to know if he could wear the jumper I left there."  
"You two are disgusting," he complained.   
"I wear your clothes all the time," I pointed out.   
"That's because we're the same size and I don't even know whose are whose anymore," Felix said, giving up and setting his laptop aside.   
My phone vibrated and I held up a finger as I texted Louis back.   
"That is true," I agreed, "I'm pretty sure the jumper in question is mine though."  
"You should tell him it's mine," Felix said.   
I kicked him and he laughed.   
"God, go to bed," I said.   
"You're in my bed," he pointed out.   
"Shut up," I muttered.   
When I went to text Louis back, Felix stole my phone. I didn't bother trying to take it back. Louis usually knew when he took it. I normally didn't send him paragraphs of disgustingly sappy reasons why I loved him.   
It was one time and Felix had never let me forget about it.   
Twat.


	28. Chapter 28

Harry's POV 

Walking into rehearsal was, to say the least, a little awkward. Louis had a death grip on my hand and a death glare when he looked at Liam. Liam at least looked a bit sheepish. I doubted they had talked although I had seen on Louis' phone that Liam had been texting him.   
Surprisingly, Louis dropped my hand and marched over to Liam, his jaw set.  
"Alright. You've got a minute to apologize and that's it," Louis said, his voice hard.   
Liam blinked.   
"Time's ticking," Louis warned.  
It spurred Liam into action and he started quickly, "Alright, listen Louis. You know I love you and I worry about you and I'm not trying to make excuses for myself because I know I was an absolute arse and what I said was really stupid. I'm really sorry and I swear that I wasn't meaning to make fun of who you are Louis, I'm totally okay with whatever you are or whatever, and I never meant to come across like I'm not. And I really am happy for you and Harry and you know I worry too much which is why I was such an arse about it but I think it's great if you're happy and-"   
"Time," Louis said abrubtly, cutting Liam off.   
Louis stood, his head tilted slightly as he considered Liam. His expression was careful and measured. I wasn't sure if Liam saw it, but Louis' mouth twitched as he fought back a smile and I knew he wasn't angry. He just wanted to play.   
"Louis-"   
"Shut up," Louis snapped, walking a circle around him.   
It was almost amusing, how theatrical and cliche he was acting.   
"So. What's going to happen next time you're a prick to me?" Louis asked.  
"I don't know," Liam said, "You'll kick my arse?"  
Louis shook his head.  
"Wrong. There won't BE a next time, got it Payne?" he said, his voice low and dangerous.   
I couldn't help it, a small snort slipped out. Louis turned and narrowed his eyes at me and I quickly composed myself.   
"Got it," Liam said, visibly trying to make himself smaller.   
"Right," Louis said, nodding, "Come here, Harry."  
I went and stood next to him. I put my hand on his lower back and he blinked up at me, his eyes softening for just a moment.   
"I'm in love with him. He's in love with me. He's my boyfriend. I like to kiss him and hold his hand. You're going to have to get used to it," Louis said.   
"Please no sex on the bus," Liam sighed.  
Louis raised his eyebrows.  
"That's not going to be a problem, Liam. You're talking about ME," he snorted.  
Liam looked sheepish.   
"No...canoodling on the bus of any kind," he said.  
Louis let out a sharp burst of laughter.  
"Liam, did you seriously just say canoodling?" he asked, and he was smiling, apparently done with playing with Liam, "Shit, just come here."  
I took my hand off of his back so he could hug Liam. It was nice, seeing them get along.   
"You had me worried there for a moment," Liam said when they pulled away.   
"Good," Louis said, his eyes glittering.   
I was so in love with him.   
Louis came back to stand next to me.   
"So, by canoodling, do you mean this?" he asked, pulling me down so suddenly that I stumbled and almost knocked us over.   
He kissed me hard, exaggerating for the show of it. I went along with it. I wasn't one to turn down a kiss from Louis.   
"Alright, enough," Liam said, walking straight into us to break us apart.   
Louis snapped his fingers in my face to stop me from staring at his mouth. It wasn't like I could help it; it was just so incredibly pretty, especially after he kissed me.   
"And yes, that definetely counts as canoodling. If you don't want to see one of us doing something with somebody, we don't want to see you two doing it," Liam was saying.   
"So, let's say murder," Louis said, his face so serious that I had to laugh.   
"Depends on who you're murdering. There are a few people I could think of that I wouldn't mind " Liam answered.   
Louis nodded.   
"But I don't really think you'd murder anybody on the bus," Liam said thoughtfully, "There's not much room."  
"They wouldn't have much room to get away or stuggle," Louis pointed out.   
"True. And you could always beat them into submission with a guitar or something lying around," Liam said.   
"This is sounding less and less hypothetical," Zayn said drily, "I think I'd rather see 'canoodling' than have to deal with a murder on our bus."  
"Great," Louis said.   
"That wasn't permission," Zayn said.   
Louis rolled his eyes.   
"Seriously, though, you're not going to have a problem," he said.   
"You say that now," Liam said.   
Louis' jaw tightened and his smile looked a little more forced. I knew he hated how uncomfortable he was with people touching him, and I tried to get him to see that it was okay, but I knew he couldn't believe me. He was damaged goods, he had said, whether or not I could see it.   
"Yeah, I do," Louis said.   
Liam must have recognized something in Louis' expression because he didn't push it anymore. He threw an arm around Louis' shoulders instead.   
"Right, lads. So you've told management yet? Or not?" Niall asked.   
We had, actually, the previous night. It had been terrifying. Louis had admitted it was almost as scary as telling his family.   
Contrary to the popular belief in our fanbase, our management wasn't a group of power-hungry homophones. They were actually quite cooperative and listened to us, though we did at times wish we had a little more control.   
They had been surprised, but they had accepted it. They had agreed with us when we had said we wanted to keep it quiet and advised us against coming out in the next few years while our fame was still at it's peak. They had also said that they wouldn't force us to have beards or seperate us. We had much more control than I had expected to.   
We told the boys as much.   
Like us, they looked surprised.   
"That's great, then," Niall said, "So who're you going to tell next?"   
Louis and I looked at each other.   
We'd talked about it, to some extent, but we didn't really know.   
"We think maybe telling the whole crew might be a little extensive. It's not safe, you know? Not that I don't trust them, but you can't be certain one of them won't out us. Not with that many people involved. Maybe the band, though," Louis said.   
Liam nodded.   
"We spend a lot of time with them, so," I said, "I don't want to always be hiding, you know? I don't want it to just be behind closed doors."  
Louis hooked his chin over my shoulder. I tried not to laugh at the way he almost had to stretch to do so. He was tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. I knew it wasn't something to be really worried about, that he still had trouble sleeping sometimes and it was just a residual thing, but knowing he couldn't sleep made it hard for me to sleep.   
"Have you guys thought about coming out?" Liam asked.   
"Yeah. It's not something we want to do soon though," I said, reaching around behind me and grabbing Louis' hand.   
I felt him try and hide a smile in my shoulder.   
"You're disgusting," Niall said.   
Apparently Louis wasn't as good as hiding as he thought.   
"Better get used to it," Louis said.   
That was the last he got out before the band started filtering in. I didn't let go of Louis' hand and I felt him tense up.   
Surprisingly, nobody commented on it. I wondered just how obvious we had been. We got a few nods, I assumed of approval, but that was really all.   
"Love you," I whispered in his ear.  
He beamed.  
***  
It wasn't often that Louis had nightmares, not really, but he did, in any case. Sometimes they weren't too bad and he would just be a little quiet for the rest of the day. I usually knew when he had one without him telling me.   
There were ones that were a lot worse, though. Ones where when I would finally get him to wake up, his eyes wouldn't focus and recognize me for long minutes before he would finally snap out of it.   
I woke up from a hard elbow to my stomach. Cursing, I sat up and looked over to Louis. He wasn't thrashing like he sometimes did, but his fingers and legs twitched and his face was drawn up tightly.   
"Lou?" I asked, gently shaking him, "Love, wake up."  
He made a noise in the back of his throat and I shook him again.   
"Louis," I said, a little more loudly, "Louis."  
He kicked, hitting my thigh and I winced.   
I could never know what kind of dream he was having, so it was always kind of a gamble. Sometimes it was about me, about him finding me, and sometimes it was about whatever bastard had hurt him. If it was about me, he would need me close whenever he woke up, and I usually took him downstairs and made him some tea to drink while we cuddled on a sofa.   
If it wasn't about me, he'd wake up and get away from me as quickly as possible. He'd make his own tea, and he'd sleep in a guest room for the rest of the night, if he slept at all.   
I shook him a third time and he woke up with a start, almost smacking me in the face.   
It took him a moment to fully wake up, carefully focusing on me and sagging with relief when he saw that I was in fact, alive.   
"Oh," he said dumbly, once he focused on me, "Sorry, was I keeping you awake? Sorry."  
It was apparently okay for me to be around.   
I snorted and shook my head.   
"Come on, I'll make you a cuppa," I said.   
He held on tight to my hand as I brought him downstairs and put the kettle on. I tried to turn away when I yawned, but he frowned when he noticed.   
"You wanna talk about it?" I asked.   
Louis shrugged.   
"S' the same thing. You're there and you're dead," he said quietly.   
"I hate when you have dreams like this," I said, gently rubbing his arm.   
He tried for a smile, but it was strained. I had to turn around to take the kettle off and he followed me, pressing tightly against my side.   
"I hate them too," he said, "I wish they'd stop."  
"It's scary. Seeing you so scared," I said, "It sounds stupid but it's true."   
I reached up into a cupboard and got him down a tea bag. He blinked in thanks.  
"You can go back to bed. I'm good," Louis said.   
We both knew he didn't really mean it. I didn't bother replying.   
"C'mon," I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the kitchen.   
I flicked on some random show just for background noise and he tucked his feet up on the couch.   
"You have no idea how terrifying it was. I thought you were dead. Like, there was so much blood and pills and I didn't even consider that you might be alive, you know? I was certain. You know, Eleanor figured it out after you left and she wanted me to call the lads immediatly and tell them about you leaving but I told her no and to wait and shit, if I hadn't done that, maybe you wouldn't have had time. And what if the boys had been one minute later and we hadn't gotten to you in time? It's always this little thought in the back of my head, like every time I look at you," Louis said quickly, his nose pressed against my shoulder.   
His hand, like it sometimes was, was over my heart. He said sometimes that he liked to feel my heartbeat whenever he could. It made me want to cry.   
"You've been through so much," I murmured.   
It was half to myself, half to him.  
"Yeah, well. Kind of deserve it," he sighed.   
"God, I hate when you say things like that," I snapped, "It's not true."  
Louis shrugged, but I could feel his guard coming up. I really didn't want to argue with him, so I bit my tongue.   
"Do you want to have sex with me?" he asked suddenly.   
"Why does this bother you so much?" I asked.   
"Answer me," Louis snapped.   
"Louis, it's not important," I sighed, "If I were in a relationship with anybody else, I probably wouldn't have had sex with them yet either. I'd wait a while, like we're doing."  
"That's not an answer," he said, sitting up.   
His jaw was clenched and his thumbs dug into his thighs.   
"Even if you wanted to, I wouldn't, because I want to wait too," I said.   
He shook his head.   
"Why won't you answer me?" he asked.   
"Because it doesn't matter, Louis!" I said.  
"It does to me!" Louis said, his voice wavering, "Do you want to have sex with me?"   
I sighed.  
"Yes. Okay? Yes, I do," I said.   
He looked at me. There was an explosion on the screen in front of us.  
"You think about it ever?" he asked.   
It was pointless to argue, so I shrugged.   
"Sometimes," I said.   
Louis nodded.   
I had no idea why it mattered so much to him, the whole sex thing. I knew that he hated how uncomfortable he was with people touching him but I knew that even if he was okay with it, we wouldn't be having sex at that point anyways. I tried to understand though, because obviously it did bother him and I didn't like seeing him so insecure.   
I tried to move closer, ready to cuddle. I expected the discussion to be over.   
He held his hand up.   
"What do you think about, then?" Louis asked.   
I stopped.   
"Louis, does it really-"   
"I just want to know," he interrupted.   
He fussed with his hair, a nervous habit that he had.  
"Alright. If you want to know. I guess. I don't know. What do you mean, what do I think about?" I asked.  
I was flustered, and I could see the tiniest of smiles on his face.   
"Don't think I can get much clear, mate," he snorted, "What do you think about? About us. Or me. C'mon. I want to hear all of Harry Styles' dirty little thoughts."  
I swallowed hard. His eyes glittered.   
"Where is this all coming from?" I asked, "Just tell me that."  
Louis looked away.   
"Louis," I said.  
He shook his head.  
"Louis," I repeated.   
"It wasn't a nightmare," he blurted.   
Even with the dim light of the telly, I could see how red his face was.   
I froze.   
"Oh," I said.  
"Yeah. Oh," Louis said, his voice mocking, "Was pretty fucking scary anyways."   
"It's not anything to be ashamed of, Louis," I said gently.   
"I'm not ashamed," he grumbled, "You know how it is. It's. Humiliating."   
"I think about fingering you a lot," I said.   
Louis stared at me, the defensiveness disappearing.   
"Excuse me?" he asked.  
"You wanted to know what I think about. I think about fingering you a lot," I said, trying to be nonchalant, "I think you'd love it when it's done right. I've thought about eating you out. That's a thing, you know. Not just girls. 'Course I think about actually fucking you too, I'm only human and you've got such a nice arse, so. But I think I'd like it facing you, so I could see your expressions. And then, you could fuck me too. I don't think I'd really care how you went about it. Even just the basics, really. Like sucking you off. See if I could have a go at deepthroating. I think it'd be fun."  
"Christ," Louis said, "You kiss your mother with that mouth, Styles?"  
His hands twitched.   
I hoped I hadn't gone too far. I'd kept most of the detail out of it. I hadn't wanted to make him too uncomfortable.   
"Only you," I said, and then, purely out of curiosity, "So, d'you think about me, then?"   
Louis looked at me, eyes sharp.   
"If you think I'm going to list all the things I'd like to do to you like you just did to me, you're sorely mistaken," he said.   
"So that's a yes," I said.  
He swatted me.   
"I want to go back to bed," he said, flicking the screen off, "With or without you, you dirty teenager."  
"I'm nineteen, Louis," I muttered.   
"Teenager," he said flippantly, handing me his mug to deal with.   
I darted into the kitchen to set it by the sink to clean at a later point.   
Once we got ourselves situated in his bed, I could still feel how restless he was.   
"Lou?" I asked, "About everything. You know I've probably had more dreams about you than you can imagine. Probably to the point where it's creepy. It's a normal thing. And I don't mean to sound like such a mum, but it's true. And I know you're not comfortable with it. I think, maybe it's progress, you know? You're always saying how you want to be what you think is normal and have 'normal' desires and be with me 'normally' and maybe this is just a step."  
Louis nodded.   
"I know," he said quietly, "And you do sound like such a mum."   
"Since you had me talk about what I want, can I ask what it was about?" I asked.  
Louis didn't immediatly dismiss the notion. I was surprised.   
"Fuck," he said, rolling onto his back, "I feel so ridiculous right now. Talking about dirty dreams and how they're normal and healthy with my bloody boyfriend. I know they are. It's just so weird that I have to be told that. Used to dream about Eleanor all the time. I know it's not weird, it's just. The first one I've had with you, you know?"  
I nodded.   
Louis laughed, more out of nervousness than anything.  
"Right. Don't really remember much. Um," he said, "Like this."  
He grabbed my wrists and carefully manuevered me onto my back. He swung his leg over my waist and leaned down so his mouth was pressed against the shell of my ear.   
"Don't remember what we were doing. Just that it was like this and. And it was good," he said quietly, his breath hot.   
I shivered.   
"Kiss?" I asked.  
Louis snorted, but went along with it.   
There were certain times where I hated that he didn't like being touched below his waist, and that was one of them. His hands were loose around my wrists, but I didn't try to move. I rather liked it.  
I tried not to focus on the pressure of his body against mine, but it was difficult not to and we'd been talking about sex for a good fifteen minutes.   
"Louis," I said, and he made a noncommittal noise, pressing a kiss to the side of my mouth, "Lou, I love you and all, but we're going to have a problem if you don't get off."  
I felt rather than saw him smirk, laughing when he went to kiss me again.   
"Really? You're pathetically easy," he said.   
"Really," I said, "I'm so easy. But if you're not okay with that."  
He frowned, thinking.   
"We could do it like we did that one time," he said, "Like."  
He shifted his weight a bit, and carefully rocked back. I twitched.   
Louis nodded.  
***  
Louis was singing in the shower, loudly and fairly off-key for somebody that was a professional singer. I had a feeling he knew I was listening and was doing it for show.   
I had breakfast waiting for him when he came downstairs. He kissed me his good morning and grinned when he saw his tea ready.   
"You're wonderful," he said.   
"I know," I replied.   
He pinched my hip.   
We ate quietly, his foot wrapped around my ankle.   
"I need to go back to Felix's later," I said.   
"S'alright. I was thinking about heading back to Donny, actually. Spend the last little while before the tour there, you know? I've been pretty shit to my family lately, with all this time off and not spending any of it with them," Louis said.   
I nodded. Admittedly, I'd only seen my own for a few days.   
"That's the first time you've mentioned that," I said.   
Louis shrugged.   
"Forgot, I guess," he said, "You could come down, maybe? Not for long. I know you'll want to be with yours and with Felix. But like a day. The girls love you and they've not seen you in ages."  
"You just don't want to miss me," I teased.   
Louis rolled his eyes, but he didn't deny it.   
"Sounds great," I said, "I really haven't seen them."  
"This time, I've got to introduce you as my boyfriend, don't I?" Louis asked, turning the loveliest shade of pink.   
"I'd cry if you didn't," I said.  
He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "The thing is, I believe it."  
He sat on the counter when I cleared the dishes, kicking his feet against it and occasionally kicking me. Eventually I grabbed his foot and didn't let go until he surrendered.   
"Do you want me to help you pack? Since I know you'll never do it yourself," I said.   
"I'm not entirely incapable of everything!" he protested, but he nodded anyways and dragged me upstairs.   
Him packing consisted of him throwing things at my head while I tried to find a suitcase for him.   
"You're such a pest," I complained, trying to fold the clothes he threw at me.   
It was useless. I knew that he would immediatly destroy the sense of order I was creating as soon as he opened the suitcase again, but it didn't really matter.   
"You love me though," Louis said, matter-of-factly.   
"God knows why," I sighed.   
I looked up to see him hanging off the edge of his bed. I kissed him and he kicked his feet.   
"You know, I wonder how much all the girls who think they'll get to marry you would hate me right now. I've got the Harry Styles in front of me and he just kissed me! I'm swooning," Louis said, giggling.   
"Yeah? I've got someone better than Harry Styles," I said, "I get to kiss Louis Tomlinson."  
He wrinkled his nose.   
"You're disgustingly cute," he said, "I am dating you so hard."  
Louis sat up, grumbling as the blood rushed down from his head.   
"Really?" I asked, hopping onto the bed and sprawling out next to him.  
He nodded.   
"Yeah. I think, whenever we've got a night to ourselves, I'm going to take you out to a really nice dinner. Somewhere Italian. And I'll pay of course. Wait, before we go anywhere, I'll show up to your door with a dozen red roses. I'll try to woo your parents and I'll promise to have you back by your curfew. Then we'll go out to dinner. Maybe we'll go for a walk afterwards and complain about how full we are. But we'll go for ice cream anyways. I won't be able to decide between two flavors so obviously you'll get one and I'll get the other and then I'll just eat half of yours and maybe if I'm feeling nice you can have a bite of mine. And then I'll bring you home nice and safe and of course I'll give you a kiss goodnight," Louis said.   
"A kiss on our first date?" I asked, "Bold."  
"You'd kiss me anyways," Louis said, "If you didn't, I wouldn't let you take home the leftovers from the Italian."   
"Since we had Italian, I've got to kiss you with garlic breath," I said.  
"Breath mints," Louis said.   
"Of course," I replied.  
He laughed and kissed me, sans garlic breath. For the time being, at least.


	29. Chapter 29

Louis' POV 

When all of my sisters came running out to hug me, I had to admit, it was a massive surprise.   
The last time I had seen them face to face, I had been a mess. I was in awe that they dared to touch me when I'd yelled at them for trying to hug me before.   
I caught my mum's eye over the swarm of girls. I'd Skyped her, of course, but there was something different about seeing her in person- of course there was. It wasn't just my sisters that I knew I had hurt the last time I was home.   
I swallowed hard. I didn't want to cry in front of my sisters, but the second my mum came forward to hug me, it was useless to try and prevent it.   
Daisy let us hug for a few moments before she had to ask.   
"Lottie said Harry was coming over. When is he coming?" she said, almost accusingly.   
I stepped away from my mum and quickly blinked a few times in a desperate attempt to compose myself.   
"In a few days, don't worry. He's got to see his own family too," I said.   
She frowned.  
I knew they loved Harry and I was pretty sure all of them, especially Lottie, had massive crushes on him- excluding my mum of course. I couldn't blame them, though. I'd fallen under his spell as well.   
"Why can't he come today?" she asked, "He can see his family some other time."  
"What if I went to his house and didn't visit you at all before I left for the tour? How would you feel then?" I asked, "Because that's how Anne and Gemma would feel."  
Daisy sighed and didn't say anything. She understood. Phoebe started complaining about being cold, so we moved inside. My mum offered to take my suitcase- just one because I was going back to my house before the tour- up to my room for me so that I could stay with the girls, but I wouldn't let her.   
It was strange, being back in my old room- more so than it usually was. I'd barely been concious the entire time I'd been in it last, and when I was, I'd been all but insane.   
I set the suitcase on the floor.   
I didn't think I would ever be able to get over how guilty I felt for putting my family through that. I'd scared them and worried them, in ways that were borderline unforgivable.   
I sat down on my bed then and looked around my room. I saw the dent in the wall from when I had kicked it when Stan had forced me to go to therapy. There was the little bottle of children's sleep medication that my mum had used for me.   
There were traces of the time I'd been in my room last, and I didn't want there to be.   
I wanted to call Harry. I already knew he'd tell me that I had nothing to worry about, but I wanted to hear him say it. It was ridiculous, but I missed him. I wanted to tell him to leave his family like Daisy had said and come to me.   
I texted him instead, telling him I missed him and adding a frowning emoji.   
I made my way downstairs, where my family was waiting for me. Daisy and Phoebe immediatly scrambled to sit next to me.   
My phone buzzed with a reply from Harry. It was just a kissing emoji. I couldn't help but smile and when I looked up, I had a hunch that everybody knew who I was smiling about.   
"Is that your boyfriend, then?" Lottie asked, smirking.  
"Yes, as a matter of fact, that was my boyfriend," I said.   
I fought to keep from laughing. Harry demanded that I call him my boyfriend as much as possible so he could be constantly reassured that our relationship was most definetely not a figment of his imagination. It was both endearing and mildly heartbreaking that he still had trouble believing it. It did lead to interesting conversations though, ones where we threw in the word boyfriend as much as possible until it started to sound weird to us.   
"Can I talk to him?" Phoebe asked, her eyes bright.   
I shook my head.   
"He's still driving right now. Maybe later if he's up to it, okay?" I said.   
I hoped she would forget. I wasn't sure if Harry wanted to be bothered by my sisters and I didn't want to disrupt the time he had with his family. She frowned, but she didn't say anything more about it.   
After that, it was easy.   
I knew that my mum had told them to never mention how cruel I had been before, or how confused and upset I had been. She had to; there was no way they wouldn't have said anything otherwise. I appreciated it. I never wanted to explain to my sisters all the stupid things I had done while Harry had been gone. I didn't know if they even knew about the drinking. I knew that Lottie knew about Ben and the drinking, but I doubted the younger ones did. I was terrified that any of them knew about Ben. I didn't think they did, but it was always a very real fear.   
Phoebe and Daisy demanded to see the pictures on my phone of me and Harry, and it got passed around the room. Lottie pretended to gag and it made my chest hurt. Not necessarily because it was upsetting. It was just so normal and I loved my family so much that it hurt.   
She threw my phone back at me and it almost hit my face. I wasn't sure what else to do, so I stuck my tongue out at her.   
They didn't seem to notice that I wasn't very loud, that I wasn't talking over them like I had once. It was just part of me. Harry'd commented on it once after a rehearsal. He said that I tended to watch the action rather than be part of it, when it had always been the opposite before. I had shrugged and told him that it didn't mean that I was unhappy because I was very, very happy. I just didn't have as much to say.   
So I sat on the sofa and listened as my sisters shouted over each other to tell me about their lives and what had happened since the last time I'd been home. I heard about Matt, the boy that Phoebe thought was really cute and funny, but had never actually talked to. Felicite told me how she was thinking about starting a fashion blog or something similar.   
Occasionally Harry would send me a text. It was always dumb, little things like 'gems and mum say hi' and 'I miss you already' and 'think I've got your shirt on...it's tiny', which was followed by a picture of him in what was indeed my shirt.   
At some point I had to put my phone down when my mum got dinner ready. She asked me to help, so I watched the water boil. I had a feeling she just wanted to give me room to breathe without my sisters climbing on top of me.   
"You know when Harry comes over, that he can't sleep in your room with you, right?" she said, throwing a smile at me before she resumed chopping vegetables.   
I frowned at her.   
It hadn't occurred to me.   
I was used to sleeping with Harry. I had expected to have trouble sleeping without him before he came over, but I hadn't thought about not sleeping with him while he was there.   
"What?" I asked.   
"You can't honestly think I'll let you sleep with your boyfriend. Can you imagine? Then all your sisters would complain whenever they get boyfriends, or girlfriends, you never know, about why their partners couldn't sleep over. He can sleep on the couch. Or you can and he can sleep in your bed," she said, laughing, "And don't you dare try and sneak him in. I'll know."  
I scowled at her and sent Harry a text, demanding that he run away with me to somewhere we could sleep together. He replied, pointing out that that would pretty much just be my house.  
I smiled.   
"I love him," I said quietly, "It's...it's not been long, but I love him a lot."   
"You've mentioned that once or twice," she said.   
"I feel guilty. I've never taken him out for a proper date but I don't know how. It's not like we can just go out to some nice restaurant. I believe he knows I love him, but it's hard for him and I just want to show him that I do love him," I said.   
"You could have a date here," she said, shrugging, "I could take the girls out, or have them act as waitresses or something. It's cliche, but in a position like yours, it's about as good as it can get."   
I stared at her.   
"That's the most cliche thing I've ever heard," I said, but I grinned, "Can we?"  
She laughed and nodded.   
"As long as you promise not to have sex under this roof," she said.   
"Mum, you- you know that's not something I'd ever do, even if I was okay," I said.  
She nodded.   
"I'm just joking, love. I know you wouldn't," she said, "But really. I except to have your hands right where I can see them the entire time he's here."  
I laughed.   
"Do you want me to take the girls and leave?" she asked, "Or like I said, you can have them play waitress."  
I considered it, turning down the heat on the stove as the water started to boil.   
"I think I'd like if they weren't around?" I said, "Gives the illusion of privacy or something, I don't know."   
My mum smiled.   
"I'll cook for you, if you want. Assuming you're still rubbish at it," she said.   
I accepted the offer.   
Dinner was the same cacophony of voices trying to talk to me. I loved it. It was so warm and familiar.   
I went to bed fairly early, not because I was tired, but I just wanted to call Harry, really. Before I could, Lottie poked her head into my room.   
"Hi," she said, pushing her way through the partially closed door and sitting down on my bed.   
"Hi," I said.   
"Right," she said slowly.   
"Hi," I said again, and then, "Do you want something?"   
It wasn't necessarily awkward, but she wasn't saying anything and it was definetely not entirely comfortable.   
Finally, she sighed and looked me in the eyes.   
"Are you happy?" she asked.   
I stared at her.   
"Yeah, of course," I said, sitting down next to her, "Of course I am."  
Lottie shook her head.   
"You don't have to lie to protect me or whatever. I want to know the truth," she said.   
She sounded more confident, more demanding. I noticed that she looked older than I remembered. I wondered if she had matured because of me not being there for the rest of the family. She'd had to take my place; I knew it. I felt sick.   
"I'm not lying," I said quietly, "I'm so happy, Lottie. I know it's probably hard to believe, since the last time you saw me I was a mess, but I am happy now. A lot of it has to do with Harry, obviously, but I'm also a lot more mentally stable than I was."   
Lottie nodded.   
"Are you in love with him?" she asked.   
"Yeah. The whole thing's happened really quick and sudden, but I love him a lot and he loves me," I said, shrugging.   
"I'm not actually mad that you've 'stolen' him, you know," Lottie snorted, her mouth quirking up in a smile, "I'm happy if you're happy, really."  
I smiled back at her.   
"It was really hard," she said, her smile vanishing, "Seeing you like that and not being able to do anything to help except stay clear. I- it was really scary. You know mum got us all earplugs because you'd wake up screaming and it would scare us all half to death and we wouldn't be able to go back to sleep?"   
I swallowed hard. I hated hearing about what I'd done to them, especially when I couldn't remember bits and pieces.   
"I didn't. Know that, I mean. I don't know a lot of what went on. I really don't remember a lot of it. I was so stuck in my head that I've got no idea what happened outside of it," I said, "If that makes sense."  
"It does," she said.   
It was quiet, tense for a moment.   
"Can you- what did you guys even do? Why'd you let me stay here? I was horrible to all of you and I know mum thought I was dangerous," I said.   
My chest ached. I hated thinking about it, the way I'd treated them. They all deserved the world and I'd given them the least I could. I'd given them less. I'd wanted them to hurt like I had hurt and it was by far the worst thing that I had done in the entirety of my life.   
Lottie sighed, "What else could we do, Louis? You were killing yourself in London and we couldn't send you off to live by yourself. You needed somebody to take care of you and make sure you were eating and drinking things other than alcohol and keeping yourself alive at the very least. I think we all knew that you wouldn't ever physically harm us. We couldn't even get close to you before you would get all skittish and go hide in your room. It really was just a matter of ignoring everything you said to us and trying not to get upset about how sad you were."  
I bit down on my thumb hard, trying to keep from getting too emotional in front of her. It was extraordinarily difficult. I decided that I was absolutely exhausted then, and all I wanted was to go to bed. But I also knew that I needed to finish the conversation before I lost the nerve to ever ask about it again.   
"What did I say to you?" I asked slowly, "I know I swore at you and told you to go away when you tried to talk to me, but in the grand scheme of things, that's not that bad. So what did I say that made you guys so afraid of me?"   
"You have to understand that what you were acting like wasn't normal behavior, Lou. Obviously. So that alone was scary. You were acting like some kind of zombie and seeing your older brother like that is- I can't even describe it and I hope that you never have to see it yourself," she said.  
For a moment, I remembered Harry before rehab. I thought that I might have understood what she meant and that I already had seen it.   
"There was this one night, though," Lottie continued, "I don't remember when, but it was right when you came home, like only two or three days after. I heard you in the shower, and you were- I don't know what you were doing, but I think you were crying and I could just hear you talking to yourself and telling yourself how disgusting you were and that you should be dead, that you deserved to die and you should just hang yourself and Louis-"   
I had to hug her. It was as hard for her to talk about as it was for me to hear it.   
"If I had to find you like that," she whispered, "I don't know what I'd do. I didn't sleep for ages after that because I just kept having these dreams of walking into your room and finding you hanging from something. They were so real and when I woke up I'd run to your room to make sure you were still okay and you always would be, of course, but it was just so real. Sometimes you'd be awake- well, you were always awake because you never slept, but you weren't really awake if you know what I mean, and you'd shout at me to go away and I never could be upset at you because if you were shouting, you were alive at least, you know?"   
I shut my eyes. I felt sick. I hadn't been aware that they knew how much I had wanted to die.   
"And one day you were standing in the kitchen and you drank so much water that you got sick all over the floor because you were trying to get yourself drunk. On water," she said, her voice shaking, "When you looked at us, you never really seemed to see us. It was like we weren't there. Daisy tried to make you a get well card because she didn't know what else to do and you tore it in half and said that you'd never get well."   
"I don't know if I want to hear any more of this," I said quickly.   
"Are you okay?" she asked.   
I shook my head.   
"Do you need something?" Lottie pressed.   
"Can you just leave me alone for a bit?" I asked, "I just want to be alone."  
Lottie nodded. She hesitated before hugging me, but she did, and she left the room.   
Immediatly, I picked up my phone and called Harry.   
He answered after a few rings, his voice bright and happy the way it always was when he was around his family.   
"Louis!" he said.   
"Hi," I responded, pulling my duvet over my head.   
"Do you want to say hi to mum or Gemma?" Harry asked, "They're right here."  
For some reason, the thought of talking to them scared me. I knew they didn't blame me for anything that had happened to Harry and he had said that they loved that we were together, but I still couldn't think about anything but the worst. It felt like meeting them for the first time and it was nerve wracking.   
"No, not right now," I said quietly.   
My head hurt.   
He must have caught on to something, because I heard him excuse himself and a few moments later he said, "Is everything okay, Lou?"   
"No," I said, swallowing around how badly I wanted to cry, "No."  
I burrowed more deeply into the little cave I had made for myself. I was cold despite the pile of blankets on top of me.   
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.   
I shook my head to myself.   
"I talked to Lottie a little while ago. She told me about some of the stuff I did when I was here the last time, when I was all insane or whatever. I'm such a horrible person," I whispered.   
"Louis," he sighed, "No you're not."  
"I am. You should have heard her," I said, "I scared them all so much and she was just telling me some of the things I've done and. I want her to be lying to me."  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked.   
"I don't want to keep you from your family. Just wanted to hear you for a little," I said.   
"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out.   
"It doesn't matter. Just go back to your mum and sister. I'll be okay," I sighed.  
"No," he said, "Listen. I'm going to stay here whether or not you tell me what's bothering you. I love you, okay? Your family loves you. And we know you're not a horrible person."   
"Okay," I sniffed, pulling the blankets more tightly around me.  
I put the phone on speaker and set it on the pillow next to me.   
"What do you want? Do you want me to just talk to you, love? Or do you want to talk?" Harry asked.   
"I ripped up a card Daisy made for me," I blurted, in lieu of an actual response, "Lottie said she made it because she didn't know what else to do to make me feel better and I ripped it up in front of her and said I'd never get better. What kind of brother does that? And Lottie said she could never sleep because she was so afraid I'd kill myself because she heard me talking to myself and she saw me trying to get drunk by drinking a lot of water and I used to wake them up screaming."  
Harry stayed quiet for a long moment. I assumed it was because he was getting himself ready to break up with me. Nobody wanted to be with somebody who treated their family like such trash.  
"Do you want me to come down now?" he asked instead, "I can, if you need me."  
I started to cry.   
"Louis?" Harry asked, sounding even more worried than he had been.   
"I just love you a lot," I explained, "I do."   
"I love you too," Harry said, "Do you want me to come over, love?"   
"No. I'm good, I think. Just wanted to talk to you. I miss you," I said, rubbing my hand over my face and trying to gain control over my emotions.   
"I miss you too," he said.   
"You know, mum said we can't sleep together when you're here. She said the girls will complain that we get to sleep together but they won't be able to sleep with their boyfriends," I said, trying to change the topic.  
I wanted to stop being so emotional. I'd probably cry again once I hung up, but I wanted to feel happy and loved for a few minutes first. I didn't want to bother him with my unresolved guilt.  
Harry laughed.   
"Doesn't she know you like to be cuddled when you wake up?" he asked.   
"Of course she knows, she's my mum, Harry," I said, "I suppose she doesn't care at all for what I want when I wake up or she would let you sleep with me."  
Harry snorted on the other line.   
"I'm sure she cares, you idiot," he said, "Although I don't care much for her right now. I'll miss you."   
"Maybe you can pretend to sleepwalk up into my room?" I suggested.   
"That's believable," he said sarcastically, "I think we'll just have to suffer through it."  
"Do you think it's weird that I sleep better with you?" I asked.   
"No," he said, "Not at all. I'm pretty sure it's been proven by a study that people sleep better with their significant other."  
"Is that what I am? Your significant other?" I teased.   
"I love you," he said, "And you're pretty fucking significant to me. So, yeah."  
"Out of wedlock, Styles?" I asked, trying to keep from grinning to myself, "Is that even a thing?"   
"We'll make it a thing if it's not," Harry said, "You and I, we can do anything we want."  
I hummed, content with his answer.   
It was quiet for a while, which for a phone conversation, should have been uncomfortable, but I wasn't. I didn't think he was either. It got to the point where I started to nod off while still on the phone with him.   
"You tired, love?" he asked, startling me a bit.   
"Yeah," I said.   
"Do you want me to go?" he asked, "I can stay on if you want, though."  
"Can you stay on 'till I fall asleep?" I yawned, "I think I'd be able to fall asleep faster that way."  
"Of course. Good night, Lou," he said.   
"Wish I could give you a good night kiss," I murmured, "But good night anyways."  
Harry snorted softly.   
"Yeah, me too," he said.   
It didn't take long to fall asleep after that.


	30. Chapter 30

Lottie's POV

It was amazing, how different Louis was. Even waking up in the morning to hear him laughing at one of our sisters downstairs was bizarre. Before, he'd have been shut in his room all day and I didn't even know if he had known how to laugh then.   
I had been afraid that I'd really upset him when I'd told him about the things that he had done that he couldn't remember. I hadn't meant to scare or worry him, but he had asked, so I had answered. I figured that he deserved to know. I hadn't really known whether or not it was safe to leave him alone afterwards, but I'd walked by his room about ten minutes later and heard him laughing. I had stood outside his door for a few minutes, trying to figure out why, but eventually I realized that he was on the phone with Harry.   
When our mum had first told us that Louis and Harry were together, that they were boyfriends now, I had been surprised. After everything they had done to hurt each other, I couldn't imagine how they'd wound up dating. But after the initial shock and hurt that he hadn't told me sooner, I was happy for him. When I had called him, he'd sounded so happy and much more Louis than I remembered.   
Even talking to him when he'd come home, he seemed so relaxed, like nothing had happened to him in the first place.   
I had always thought the way that he worried about us was ridiculous. He was protective of our mum and our sisters, including me, and I never really understood why. Of course I was too, but not to the degree that he was.   
After everything had happened, I understood. I felt like I had to call him everyday in order to ease my worries about him. I constantly checked in on him when he was home because I needed to be absolutely sure that he was okay and didn't need anything. Without him around, I'd assumed the role of the oldest child in the family and I understood his protectiveness of our younger sisters. It was a weird reversal when it came to being worried about him, because he was so much older than the rest of us, but he was still my brother and I loved him and cared about him just like the rest of my family.   
It seemed like there was nothing to worry about. Louis was so happy and content that I almost forgot that he hadn't been just a few months prior.   
We all noticed the way that he seemed to light up just a little but more every time his phone vibrated. It was amusing, how much he talked about Harry.   
When Harry finally came over, I thought that Louis was going to wee himself. He spent the entire day pacing around and frantically making sure that the house was up to the standard that he had in his head. After the third time that he changed his shirt- "Louis, he's seen all of your shirts and it's only been a few days since you've seen him." -the doorbell rang and he went flying past our mum to answer it.   
I went after him, not quite in the same rush as he was. I was excited to see Harry, but naturally, as he was not my boyfriend, I wasn't so much as Louis was.   
The second Harry came inside, I could hear the change in Louis' voice, the way it became so much happier.  
I poked my head in to the front room, not wanting to interrupt whatever reunion they had going on. Thankfully, for the sake of my eyes, it was just a hug.   
"Hi," I said.   
They looked up and pulled apart-not entirely. Louis stayed tucked under Harry's arm, half-heartedly glaring at me for interrupting them.  
"Hi!" Harry said, "It's been ages, hasn't it?"   
It was startling, how different he was. The last time I had seen him in person, he'd pretty much been dying. He'd been pale and gaunt, cuts up his arms and looking a minute from keeling over. I'd seen him in pictures and when Louis would skype us since then, but it wasn't quite the same as seeing him in person. He looked so healthy. He had always been handsome- I had to admit that- but he'd grown up more and I was almost jealous of Louis for taking him. Harry was really attractive. I couldn't be upset about it. He had helped my brother be happy again. Plus, there was never anything there other than thinking he was attractive.   
When Harry pulled me into a hug. Louis had to back away, pouting. Harry greeted the rest of my family, agreeing to let the twins play with his hair later and complimenting Fizzy on her outfit. Louis was grinning at him.   
"Love, why don't you take Harry's things to your room for the time being," our mum said to Louis.   
Louis nodded and grabbed Harry's hand before realizing he needed his hand to carry Harry's bag.   
"Lou, you don't have to," Harry said, laughing when Louis rolled his eyes and picked up the bag anyways.   
"I'll give you the grand tour," Louis said as they walked away.   
"I've been here before, you know that, right?" Harry snorted, following after him.   
***  
They came down whenever my mum called them for dinner an hour later. I'd wandered past Louis' room and all I'd heard was them talking and giggling, but Louis' hair looked suspiciously messy, which. Gross.  
I decided that if I ever wanted to lose weight, Louis and Harry would just have to eat with us more often. They were so sickeningly in love that I almost was nauseated by it. But, it was absolutely adorable. Louis kicked me several times in trying to play footsie with Harry. I kicked him in the shin and he scowled at me.   
They talked about their upcoming tour and the places they were going to go and I wasn't too blind not to see the way they talked more to each other than the rest of us.   
It was insane.   
I couldn't stop picturing a different Louis, one who thought that love didn't exist and turned his back on it. He had been afraid of everything affectionate and had refused to be hugged even by our mum.   
And yet, it had hardly been any time at all and he was in love and happier than I had thought possible for him.   
I should have been grossed out at how sickeningly affecfionate they were, but couldn't stop smiling the entire night. Neither could Louis.   
He laughed until there were tears in his eyes and he rolled off the sofa onto the floor when Harry let the twins do his hair and give him a 'makeover'.   
Eventually, when the twins were in bed and I knew that the rest of us were on our way, I cornered Harry in the kitchen when he went to refill Louis' glass of water for him. I figured that since Louis was the oldest, as the next oldest, I had the responsibility of giving Harry the lecture on what would happen to his genitalia were he to ever hurt Louis.   
"Harry," I said.   
He turned around.   
"Hi!" he said brightly, as if we hadn't been talking all night, "Fancy seeing you here."  
"Harry," I repeated, "I hate to do this, but I think we need to have a talk."  
Harry blinked at me, looking confused, and set Louis' water down.   
"Okay?" he said, "Yeah, what's up?"   
"Listen. Typically the older sibling does this, but since Louis is the oldest, I have no choice but to be the one to give you 'the talk'," I said.   
"Oh," Harry said, looking less confused and more nervous, "Talk away then, I suppose."  
"Okay. So. You and I both know that even though Louis hates to admit it, he's still not 100% okay and that people need to treat him very carefully sometimes. You're the scariest thing in the world to him, which you probably very well know, because he was bloody terrified of hugging us a few months ago, much less actively being in a relationship. I have no idea what you did to him, but I thought he was going to die; he was so insane and miserable," I said.  
I hadn't planned on getting emotional. I had just wanted to scare him a little bit, tease him a little. I hadn't exactly planned on what I was going to say, but it hadn't been that.   
Harry stared at me.   
"Hey, Lottie," he sighed, tugging me in for a hug, "He's okay now. I'm so sorry. I never meant to do that to him."   
I had a profound memory of Liam calling us one day, demanding that I put my mum on the line because he had said that Louis 'wasn't okay'. I hadn't learned what had happened until later, but I just knew that when my mum hung up, her face had been completely white. She told me that Louis and Harry had gotten into a fight and that Liam said that Louis had completely lost it. With Louis, that could have meant anything, and judging by the look on my mum's face, it could have meant the worst.   
It had almost meant the worst. He'd gone off the grid for three weeks and Liam had called and said that when he had gotten back, Louis had explained that he had almost tried to jump off of a bridge.   
I felt sick just remembering the way that our mum had cried the entire time Louis had been gone.   
"It's not your fault. It's our fault for not looking out for him before he hurt himself because he was too bloody stupid to actually talk to somebody and get help. He wanted to die and he was killing himself without even meaning to and now he's- it's amazing, what having you has done for him. Thank you," I said, muffled in Harry's shoulder.   
"I haven't done anything that anybody else wouldn't have done," he said, "When I got back from rehab, I didn't recognize him. The boys had told me that he was sad and angry a lot of the time but then I saw it first hand and it was so heartbreaking and I couldn't do anything about it because I couldn't stand to be so close to him so much. When he- I didn't know what had happened to him then, but when they told me- I. There's no-"   
And then Harry was crying too. It was absolutely pathetic, the two of us, but at the same time, it was comforting.   
"I love him a lot, Lottie, and I swear I'll never hurt him. I've hurt him too much already. I can't just sit by and watch him like that again. I won't let him. I swear," he whispered.   
"I really thought he was going to die," I whispered, "I went into his room one night and I don't know if he was asleep or in that place that he went where he was a million miles away, but I sat next to him and told him how much a I loved him and I pretty much told him goodbye because I didn't know if I was going to get another chance. I thought that he was going to kill himself because I heard him saying that he wanted to and I thought he might drink himself to death or just- I don't know. But I was pretty much counting down the days until I had to be the oldest."   
"I'm so sorry," Harry murmured, pulling me in more tightly, "I'm so, so sorry you had to go through that."  
"Love?" Louis asked, poking his head into the kitchen, "Um?"   
I quickly wiped my face off.   
"I was wondering what was taking you guys so long, but I can um, give you a bit of privacy if you're having a moment or summat," he continued, giving us a wary, albeit concerned smile.   
Harry glanced at me.   
"Anyways," I said, "What I meant to say was that I will hurt you if you dare step out of line and I will cut your dick off and auction it off to one of your fans. I think we're done now, Lou. You can have your boyfriend back."  
Harry blinked at me.   
"Okay," Louis said slowly, "Um. We were just setting up your sofa, love, cause mum's off to bed. Didn't know if you wanted to bring your stuff down of leave it upstairs or what."   
"I can go get it," Harry said, "Here's your water, anyways. Sorry I was a bit slow in getting it."  
"It's the thought that counts, innit?" Louis said, letting Harry kiss him when he handed him the glass of water.   
I made a face at them. Harry smiled. Louis just rolled his eyes.   
"I'm off to bed. You can be as gross as you want now," I muttered, "Goodnight."   
"Goodnight," Louis said, "Now that you're going to bed, I plan to have wildly innapropriate sex down here, so hurry up, please."   
I grimaced.  
"Oh god, please never make me think about that again," I protested, "Goodnight."

Harry's POV 

The sofa wasn't really made for two people, but I wasn't ready to let Louis go up to his own bed just yet. I wondered if Louis fell asleep downstairs, how well we could pass it off as being 'accidental' whenever his mum inevitably found us in the morning.   
I decided not to risk it.   
I was so warm and comfortable and it was incredibly tempting. I was half-asleep and murmuring nonsense about my time at my mum's house into Louis' hair.   
"So what was that about with Lottie earlier?" he asked, unable to refrain from it any longer, "That was...weird to walk into."  
I sighed, stretching a bit, waking myself up a bit more.   
"She tried to give him the whole 'you hurt my brother, I'll hurt you' speech and it ended up being a little more emotional than we both anticipated, s'all," I mumbled.   
"She doesn't cry very easily," he pointed out.   
"She was convinced you were going to die, Louis. That's not something that one easily gets over," I said.   
"Is that what she told you?" he asked.   
"Yeah. Pretty much," I said, "She told me she went into your room one night to tell you goodbye because she didn't know when she would be able to and that she didn't want to be the one to say that she never got a chance to say goodbye."  
"Oh," he whispered, turning and tucking his face into my chest, "Oh my god."  
"It's okay," I murmured, petting at his hair, "It's all okay now, isn't it? We've got each other and we're both healthy and okay now. There's nothing to worry about."  
"She told me goodbye," Louis mumbled into my shirt, "She was that sure that I was going to kill myself."   
"She didn't know what else to do, sweetheart," I said gently, "It's not your fault. You had no idea. You were so sad, lovely, it's not your fault."  
Louis shook his head.   
"I should have been better. They should have never has to go through that," he said.   
"Louis, you couldn't help it. Love, you're so strong but you couldn't have helped how you reacted. Your mind had to shut down to protect you; you know that. What you did, or said, to them, none of it is your fault because you had no control, okay? You're better now and you can apologize until you feel better but they don't blame you. They love you so much- I love you so much, and they understand," I said.   
"I love you too," was all he could say.   
I found myself nodding off after a while of holding him like that, so I pushed at his chest until he let me sit up. He blinked up at me, eyelids heavy and slow.  
"You need to head upstairs before you fall asleep down here," I explained.  
He pouted sleepily, but didn't protest much when I leaned down to kiss him goodnight and shoved him off of the sofa.   
"I love you," he murmured, smiling and tucking the blanket around me.  
"Love you too," I said quietly, kissing him again for good measure before he went upstairs.   
It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep, just knowing that Louis was around.   
The next day we spent just hanging around the house. Louis had to go on a quick trip to the shop with my mum, but it just gave his sisters the opportunity to visit with me without him intervening. I loved his family, not quite as much as I loved him, but I loved them quite a bit.   
The situation with Lottie had definetely been unplanned, but it hadn't been unpleasant. I knew how much she loved Louis, how much the rest of them did too, and I thought it must have been rather unnerving for her when her brother, a large source of stability and protection in her life, had completely gone off the rails and she had had to take care of him. She understood the responsibility that she had when he was gone, taking care of their sisters and watching out for their mum, but I had a hunch that she had never dreamed that that responsibility would apply to him too. It had been a lot of pressure on her; I understood that, and I knew that the pressure was still there. I couldn't imagine that she would want to talk to her mother or siblings about how stressed she had been, or was still, and I was relieved that talking to me just for a few minutes might have taken a little bit of the weight off.   
I hadn't been around when Louis had lost it the first time and I was grateful that I hadn't been. I knew that at that point in time, I wasn't mentally healthy enough to deal with that kind of stress and pressure. I had hardly been the second time he had had a major breakdown and I still hadn't had to see much of it because he'd disappeared for three weeks.   
Louis walked in when the twins were trying to get me to allow them to paint my nails a fluorescent blue, grinning a 'hello' at us. I stuck my tongue out at him and they followed my lead.   
"That's not very nice," he said, but he was hardly angry.   
He set what he was carrying down in the kitchen before coming back out and sitting half on top of me, half next to me.   
"I'm going to help mum start dinner tonight," he said, "And you're going to stay out here and not get in the way."  
He was close enough to kiss. It was an incredible temptation but somehow I refrained.   
"Love, I'm not sure I'll want to eat something you've helped with," I teased.   
Louis snorted and swatted my shoulder.   
"You will. I just wanted to help cut up a couple things so I don't feel totally useless while I'm home. But you're the guest and I've been told to tell you that you're absolutely banned from the kitchen, so there's that. And now you'll have time for a manicure," he said, "Isn't that right, Daisy?"   
She nodded, and she and Phoebe went upstairs to get whatever color they were planning on doing my nails in.   
"I want to help cook," I said, pouting at him.   
"Not this time," he said, "Now kiss me before they come down."   
Naturally, I didn't refuse.   
"You're evil," I murmured when we heard footsteps coming back down the steps, "Absolutely evil. Not letting me help cook."  
It was barely far enough away from him to qualify as not kissing him, and he knew it. He made no move to put more space between us.   
"Louis," Jay said, sticking her head in, "A little help."  
"That's my cue," Louis sighed, patting my cheek and standing up.   
It was noticeably less warm without him half on top of me.   
Phoebe handed me a few bottles of nail polish as Louis disappeared into the kitchen.   
"Which color?" she asked.  
"Aren't you too old for this?" I muttered.   
She and Daisy glared at me.   
"Which color?" Phoebe repeated.   
I stared down at the colors on my lap. There was pink, a darker pink, bright blue, yellow, and black. I pointed the yellow one. It looked happy.   
"Good choice," Daisy said, handing Phoebe a paper towel to put under my hand in case of any spilling.   
It actually wasn't horrible. They knew what they were doing, at least. Yellow also went very nicely with my skin tone, Phoebe said. I had no idea if that was correct or not, but I agreed anyways.   
Louis came out a little while later, laughing at my nails.   
"You're proper posh, aren't you," he said, "Getting a manicure from the finest."  
"It was wonderful," I said, "Very good attention to detail and minimal smudging."  
Phoebe and Daisy giggled at us and run upstairs to see what else they could use to mess with me.   
"How's it going?" I asked, "Something smells good."  
"I haven't ruined anything yet," he said, sitting down, "I even managed to boil some water."  
"I'm proud of you. You've really grown up," I said drily.  
Louis snorted and rolled his eyes.   
"I'm off the hook for a few minutes. Mum says she doesn't trust me around stuff right now," he said, hooking our ankles together.   
"How much of it have you sampled?" I asked.   
"Not a lot!" he protested, "Really. Not that much. It could have been a lot worse."   
Felicite came down to ask if Louis knew anything about a question on her maths homework. He stared at her before laughing until she went back upstairs, grumbling to herself.   
"She thinks I'd remember anything about that?" he snorted, burying his smile in my shoulder, "I really MUST have been gone for too long."  
He put his feet in my lap and flicked on the telly until he was called back into the kitchen.   
Phoebe came down to redo what was salvageable of the braid she had tried to put in my hair the night before. She'd refused to let me take it out, so I had had to carefully brush around it in the morning.   
"I think you should be our hair and makeup stylist on tour," I told her, and then as to not cause any fights, "You and Daisy both."   
She grinned.   
Louis came out again, saying that his work in the kitchen was done and that it was all up to his mum.   
"I think I did pretty well," he told me, flicking Daisy on the ear and making her squawk at him, "Only nicked myself with the knife once."  
He held up a finger with a minuscule cut on it.   
"You've got to kiss it better," Daisy said.   
"Of course," I said, leaning forwards and kissing it.   
Louis smiled at me, the kind of soft smile that made my chest hurt with how much I loved him.   
"All better," he murmured.   
I heard a clatter of plates in the kitchen.   
"Will you please let me help at least set the table or something? I feel useless," I complained.   
Phoebe giggled behind me.   
"Absolutely not," Louis said, "Why don't you go upstairs, girls?"   
They nodded and went back upstairs.   
"I liked them down here," I said.   
"They needed to go do...things," he said, "Besides, are you complaining about being alone with me?"   
He kissed the side of my jaw to punctuate his point.   
"Love, your mum is like ten feet away from us. If you're trying to be sexy, it's really not working," I said.   
"I'm not trying to be sexy! What do you take me for? Some kind of slut?" he asked, faux-offended, but he kissed me anyways.   
"Louis, I think we're heading out in the next minute or so. Everything's good to go," Jay said, poking her head in and raising an eyebrow when Louis grumbled about seperating himself from me.   
"Heading out?" I repeated when she had disappeared into the kitchen.   
"You'll see," he said, his eyes glittering.   
His sisters came clambering down the stairs a few moments later, dressed and ready to go out. I frowned at him, confused.   
"What about dinner?" I asked.   
Louis shook his head, smiling, but not quite looking me in the eyes.   
It took a few minutes for them to all leave, but the second he heard them pulling out of the driveway, he pulled me to my feet.   
"Right. So, close your eyes and come with me," he said.   
I shut my eyes tightly and held onto his hand. He led me for a few seconds and I was a little nervous. I couldn't be sure that he wasn't going to lead me straight into a wall because Louis would do that.   
"Open," he said.   
I opened my eyes.   
We hadn't really gone that far. We were standing between his kitchen and dining room.   
"Oh," I said quietly.   
The table was set for only two people, and it was set with a pretty white table cloth and a little bouquet of flowers in a vase in the center.   
"I was telling my mum a few days ago that I wanted to do something nice for you, but that it's hard because we can't exactly go anywhere, you know? So she suggested that we do this instead, like have a date here instead of going out. She helped me cook, obviously, but I wanted to help as much as I could so it would be more personal, you know? And she took the girls out so it could just be the two of us," Louis explained.   
It was very rare that Louis ever got embarrassed, but in that moment he was. His cheeks were a little flushed and he was rolling back and forth on his feet, gauging my reaction.   
"Louis," I murmured, "I love you so much."   
He grinned.   
"God, Styles, are you going to cry?" he asked, his smile growing that much more.  
I blinked a few times.   
"I'm just really happy," I protested.   
He laughed.   
"I know we talked about going for Italian, so we've got pasta and garlic bread and such, and we said we'd go for ice cream afterwards, so that's for dessert," he said, nodding to the dishes.   
"Is- do you have wine?" I asked, studying the bottle on the table.   
The smile faded and he dropped his eyes.   
"Not. Not really. It's, um. It's this stuff that's supposed to taste exactly like wine and it basically is, it's just non-alcoholic. There's real wine too, for you if you want, but I figured that I could, um. That I might as well pretend, if I can't really have the real thing anymore," Louis mumbled, his face turning more red by the second.   
He was genuinely embarrassed about it, and not the same cute, endearing embarrassed that he had been before. He looked upset.   
"Louis, no. It's okay! That's actually really cool. I want to try it, if that's okay with you," I said quickly, "Lovely, I would have been fine with water or something. Doesn't make it any less perfect."   
He smiled at me, albeit a little strained.   
"Let's sit down then!" I said, "I want to see how well you did."  
The food was amazing, in fact. He almost seemed surprised about it.   
"This is delicious," I said at one point, stealing a bite off the piece of garlic bread he was holding.   
"There's plenty more. You didn't have to take mine," he protested.   
"It tastes better when it's yours," I said, "It's cuter, anyways, to share food. Can we at least do the Lady and the Tramp thing?"   
Louis smiled and nodded.   
It took a while to find a piece of spaghetti that suited his requirements of the 'perfect piece of spaghetti'. But it was hilarious when we did. Sauce got all over our faces and it turned out to be more of a game to see who could get more than anything. I let him win.   
"God, I love you so much," he laughed when he was finished chewing, "You better kiss me right now."   
Of course I did.   
It was probably more intense than it should have been. The whole garlic breath thing wasn't the greatest, but it was Louis, which made it the best anyways. Plus, the little noises he made when I kissed him exactly how he wanted made me forget about everything but him. I nearly fell off of my chair in an attempt to get closer.  
"If you want to make it to dessert, we should probably stop," he murmured, ducking away when I tried to keep kissing him.   
"What if I want you for dessert?" I asked.  
Louis stares at me, unimpressed.   
"Not if you use lines like that," he said.  
"Alright," I said.  
He snorted and took a sip of the pseudo-wine. It was actually fairly good. There was a tiny bit of a taste difference between it and a real wine, but other than that, it was almost a perfect replica. He seemed relieved when I told him that I liked it.   
When it came time for dessert, he got out mint chocolate chip and plain vanilla and demanded that I take the bowl of vanilla so that he could steal it. I went along with it.   
Louis wanted to eat it in his room, so I made him wait until I had cleared the table and put the food away. He complained the entire time that the ice cream would melt until I reminded him that he could just put it in the freezer until we were ready.   
It proved to be a challange, actually eating the ice cream. I was so happy and in love, that when it came down to eating ice cream and kissing Louis, it was a fairly easy choice. The ice cream did have the benefit of covering the taste of garlic. I was almost relieved when we finally finished both bowls, just because I could divert all of my attention to kissing him.   
"Do you know how much I loved this tonight?" I murmured between kisses, "God, Louis, you're so amazing."  
"S'mum's idea," he replied, "But 'm happy you liked it, you bloody romantic."  
"I am a romantic," I said, "What time is your family coming home?"   
"Soon, so get your naughty ideas out of your head," he mumbled, "Just kiss me for a while longer."  
And whenever his family did come home, and we both pretended to have fallen asleep in his room, it just made the night that much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if anybody had any ideas, can you comment them? I literally have no idea what to write about for the next few chapters. Nothing to do with coming out, please!


	31. Author's Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll take this down in a few days, but I just wanted to say something.

Hi.   
So I'm at school, studying, and I just found out about Zayn leaving and I'm not dealing with it super well. Like I can't cry cause I'm in public but I'm feeling really anxious and such. But that's besides the point because it's just my reaction to getting some major, major news that's not good and I'll be fine.   
But this is kind of for you guys.  
Please stay safe, because I've heard a lot of people talking about hurting themselves or worse and I'm begging you, if you're planning to do something like that, please, please don't. I know this is incredibly depressing and a huge shock to us all and it might feel like you'll never be happy again, but please take it in stride. It was a massive, difficult decision for him to leave- we know that- and please don't make it worse for him and all the other boys by adding to the stress of him leaving. Let that be your reason. Zayn left to be happy because he's not meant for this industry. He auditioned because he wanted confirmation for his talent, not because he wanted to make it big. He doesn't like the public eye or always having so much pressure. This was the best decision for him and he likely isn't feeling too great right now. It's terrible for us, but it's the best for him and he wants us to understand that, no matter how hard it may be to swallow.   
On another note- I will keep Zayn in my stories. My current one (it's written in the past anyways, the year after haylor if I'm remembering the current time it's at) will have him remain in it, and my future plans involve him as well. He is a member of One Direction, regardless if he left or not, because they aren't them without him. I write stories about One Direction and they include Zayn, so he will remain in my stories.  
Please stay safe!  
Love you


	32. Chapter 32

Harry's POV 

I knew that everybody was wondering how Louis would do on tour. He had always loved traveling, there was no question about it, but it was the pressure that I worried about. It was stressful, constantly moving from place to place and only getting a few hours of sleep some nights. He had a lot of trouble with settling down after shows, I remembered, and it was even worse with jetlag. We always had to be on top of our game and I was worried that he might try too hard and burn himself out trying to pretend that he was perfectly okay.   
He liked to think that he was healthy again, both physically and mentally, but we both knew that he wasn't. There were nights I'd wake up and find him sitting at the edge of the bed, trying to will himself asleep and there were nights that he'd wake up terrified of something in his dreams and he'd shake for hours afterwards. If we were watching a show and an advertisement came on for a beer or some other alcohol, I saw the way he always swallowed and tried to distract himself. He still wanted it. He just pretended not to.  
I just didn't want him trying so hard to act okay around the fans that he would forget to take care of himself. It was something I could easily imagine him doing. And myself, but that was a whole different issue.   
"Are you nervous?" he asked, the night before the tour started.   
"Not really. I probably won't be until right before we go on if I ever will. You know how I am," I said.   
Louis sighed and nodded, his chin digging into my shoulder.   
We had to be up in five hours, but I figured that if Louis needed to talk, it was better to stay up with him than let whatever he needed to say stay inside of his head.   
"Do you think any of them have left because we took such a long break?" he asked, "I know we've still got a lot, but. I don't want to perform a half-empty concert, you know?"   
"Lou, half of the shows are sold out and more will be as the tour progresses," I snorted, "There's nothing to worry about."   
"I know," he said quietly.   
I rolled over to face him.   
"So what's bothering you, lovely? Something is," I asked.   
Louis made a face, crinkling his nose.   
"I know you're worried about me," he sighed, "And I'm sure I'll be okay. So quit it. I know you won't, but. I've just got this fear that like- I know it's stupid and I don't need to worry about it because I know that it's dumb, but. I'm just really afraid that- I figure he knows who I am, you know, Ben. He never acted like it cause I was just another hole to fuck for him, but what are the odds that he didn't? And I'm just so scared that he's still mad that I kicked him out and he'll come to a concert or something or try to find me and I don't know how to handle that," he said.   
There was something about his sigh afterwards that told me that he had been holding onto that worry for a long time.   
It also occurred to me that it was the first time he had ever said Ben's name out loud to me. I decided not to spend to much time thinking about it. He probably hadn't noticed that he had done it.   
"If you want, we could give a description of him to security," I suggested.  
It was useless convincing him that something like that wouldn't happen. I didn't know a thing about Ben and I didn't know if he even knew who Louis was. He hadn't tried to contact Louis after the ordeal, but I couldn't tell Louis for sure that he never would. There was a possibility that the worst could happen, that Ben might expose him to the media or confront Louis himself. I doubted it, considering how much time had passed, but I couldn't entirely rule it out. I never would be able to. Everything was a possibility.   
"I don't want to trouble them," Louis said quietly, "I doubt he even remembers what happened. Why would he? It's nothing significant, not to him. I'm sure something like that has happened before, assuming he has as much sex as I think he does. It's just hard for me to realize, sometimes, that he's real and not just something from my nightmares."  
I wasn't sure what to tell him and I hated feeling so helpless.   
"You know I'll protect you no matter what, right?" I asked, kissing his nose.   
Louis smiled.   
"You can't protect me from everything, love," he said, "But hopefully I won't need much protecting."  
"Even if it's protecting you from yourself, I will," I promised, "It's not just outside things that you have to be afraid of. You know that you're the biggest threat to yourself."  
His smile faded and he nodded, sighing.   
"I'll be okay," Louis said.  
"You don't know that for sure," I warned.   
"You don't know if you'll be okay for sure. It's not just me that has problems, Harry," he snapped, turning defensive.   
"I know, I know," I said quickly, trying to gentle him before it turned into a fight, "I know. I'm worried about myself too. You're just more important to me."  
"I shouldn't be. That's how you went downhill in the first place," he muttered, but with considerably less aggression.   
"Yeah. But I'm stupid in love with you. I can't help it," I said.   
His fingers wrapped around my wrist, tracing over the scars on it and he brought my hand up to his mouth to kiss them.   
"I know you worry about me, but I worry about you too. We've seen each other at our worst but I saw you go through so much more than you saw me. I watched you over a period of nearly a year, just ruining yourself. It's not- I'm never going to forget anything I saw. I still remember seeing fresh cuts on your wrists and knowing I couldn't do anything about it or when you lost so much weight that you were light-headed all the time during rehearsals. I'm so afraid of that Harry," Louis whispered.  
I intertwined our fingers and moved impossibly closer to him.   
"I'll never be him again," I promised, "I won't. That's the past."  
***  
It was difficult to wake up in the morning. Louis was comfortable and the blankets wrapped around us were warm. It was almost worth ignoring the alarm beeping at us.   
"Turn the fucking thing off," Louis eventually grumbled, pulling the covers tighter around him.   
"It's on your side," I argued.   
He opened one eye to glare at me. I propped myself up on an elbow and reached over him to turn it off.   
"Sleep now," he mumbled, trying to pull me back towards him.  
"We've got to get up, Lou," I snorted, shrugging out of his grip and crawling out of bed.   
It wasn't cold in his house, but it was less warm than it was in bed.   
"I hate you," he huffed, pulling the duvet completely over his head.  
I decided to let him sleep a little while longer while I made us breakfast.   
By the time I was done, he was wandering downstairs by himself, looking grumpy and sleepy. He held his hands out for tea before slumping onto a chair at the table.   
"Tired?" I asked.   
Louis made a face.   
"Tired," he replied.   
"You can sleep on the plane," I promised, setting toast in front of him.   
He just mumbled something incomprehensible in reply, stuffing half of a slice of toast in his mouth.   
We were going to Australia first and I knew that if he wasn't so tired, that he would be excited about it. We had always loved Australia.   
"Did you get much sleep last night?" I asked, sitting next to him.  
Louis shrugged.   
"Probably not as much as you, but enough," he said, "Maybe like three and a half hours or so."  
"That's not enough, Louis," I said.   
"You only got like five," he argued.   
"And it wasn't as much as I would have liked," I replied, "Eat your toast and we can go take a shower if you want."  
"Together?" he asked, mouth curling mischievously.   
"We're not going to do anything, so get your mind out of the gutter," I said, rolling my eyes, "We'll do cute stuff like washing eachothers' hair and the like."  
He cooed around his toast, fluttering his eyelashes. I snorted. He was ridiculous.   
"What if I want to do something?" he asked, swallowing.   
"By all means, go ahead. I'm not complaining. But, we'll stick to washing our hair today. We're running a bit late as it is," I said.   
Louis smiled.   
It was a quick shower, as it turned out. It wasn't our first shower together and definetely wasn't the first time I had seen him naked, but when he kissed me, I barely noticed the taste of shampoo in my mouth over the feel of his skin.   
"Does this scare you?" I asked, like I always did.   
He shrugged, like he always did.   
"A lot. But it's a good kind of being scared," he admitted, "It's like. You know the whole being with you scares me. Not just the sexual stuff. I know it scares you too. But this is a little different, you know? Like we're completely starkers and showers are intimate, yeah? I know you'll never try anything, but it's just like...it would be so easy."  
"You trust me," I said quietly, "You know I'll never do a thing that you don't want."  
"I know," he replied, barely audible over the noise of the water.   
"You'll tell me if it ever stops being okay," I said, less of a question than a demand.   
"Yeah," Louis said, handing me body soap, "Just let me wash myself right now."  
I stepped back a little bit. He'd let me try to be cute and wash him before, but there was a certain point where he'd stopped being comfortable with it and told me to stop. Of course I had and we hadn't tried it again.   
I tipped my head back under the water and stood there until Louis elbowed me out of the way so that he could rinse off.   
"You look really cute when you're wet," I commented.   
He rolled his eyes and flicked water at me. I didn't bother dodging. We were in a shower.   
"Bet you say that to all the girls," he drawled, letting me back under the water.   
"Baby, you're the only one," I said sincerely.   
Louis giggled- a genuine giggle. Not one that could probably be classified as a normal laugh, but it was a real, adorable giggle.   
"You're too cute," I sighed.   
"Watch it. I'm fuckin' manly," Louis grumbled, reaching around me to turn the water off, "You can't call me cute twice in one shower. I'm a manly man. Sexy, aren't I?"   
"Yeah," I agreed, stepping out of the shower and handing him a towel.   
He wrapped it around his shoulders like a cape. He wasn't doing much to prove that he wasn't cute.   
"Dry off, munchkin," I said, dodging the immediate swat in retaliation, "You still need to finish stuffing clothes in your suitcase."  
Louis mumbled under his breath- probably wondering why he'd ever agreed to date me when I was such a nag- but started to dry off as I wandered out to his room to get dressed.   
It was more of our room, by that time, I supposed. I was a little afraid to call it that. It would make his house our house and that scared me a bit. We'd all but moved in with each other the first day we'd started dating. It wasn't as if I minded- I loved it- but there was always the niggling doubt in the back of my mind. I'd known for ages that he was it for me, but sometimes I couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever grow tired of me. In any typical relationship, it wasn't common to move in with one another so quickly. Technically, I still lived with Felix, but a good portion of the time I was with Louis. I didn't mind the fact that it was moving quickly, but I couldn't help but wonder if he ever had doubts.   
He had to. It was only natural, wasn't it? I really didn't know much about real relationships. I'd had a few when I had been in school, but none of them had been anywhere close to how serious I was about Louis. Taylor had hardly meant anything to me at all, although I always felt guilty about using her like I had.   
Louis pressed a kiss to my shoulder as he ducked around me to haul his suitcase onto the bed. I frowned at his back. I knew that I shouldn't doubt him but I couldn't help it. He turned around and smiled when he caught me staring.   
"See something you like, then?" he asked, tugging a shirt over his head.   
I was almost certain that it was my shirt, but I didn't want to point it out to him. I liked it.   
"Always," I replied.   
Louis meandered around the room, tossing clothes and whatever caught his eye into the open suitcase.   
"S' your jumper?" he asked, holding one up.   
I nodded. He shrugged and threw it on top of the growing pile.   
"Lou, that's never going to close if you just throw stuff in it at random," I said.   
"That's why you left me extra space in one of yours," Louis said, smiling at me and trying to force the zipper shut, "You did, right?"   
"Of course I did," I snorted, "And if I hadn't, you'd just throw out some of my things."  
"Love, half of my stuff is yours anyways," he said, sitting on the suitcase and raising his eyebrows.   
I went over and zipped it for him.   
"See? Fits," he said smugly, leaning up for a kiss.   
"If it breaks, I'm not giving you mine," I snorted, letting him hop off of it.   
"Yes you will," Louis replied, hefting the suitcase off of the bed.   
I probably would, admittedly.   
Once we got to the airport, we split up. We knew that the fans would freak out if they heard that he and I were on the same flight, and jump to conclusions. Of course, if they assumed that we were in a relationship, they would be true, but we didn't want too much speculation. He and I weren't ready to come out and we both knew that it was best to listen to our management and to keep speculation to a minimum. We wouldn't do anything to show that we weren't together, but we didn't want to make it obvious that we were.   
Louis was flying with Zayn and Liam and I was to leave a few hours after them by myself. Niall was somewhere else; I wasn't sure where exactly he was, but he was flying separately.   
It was difficult, creeping through the airport without people seeing Louis and I together. We knew that people most likely would, regardless of our efforts, but I was to hang around after he took off and find fans to take pictures with to prove that I was still there without him.   
We met Zayn and Liam at the gate-they were flying privately with a few other people that we worked with- and I squeezed Louis' arm before I left. We both knew that we couldn't kiss in the middle of the airport, even if it was in a private area, but he pouted at me anyways.   
I left them and went to wander around the shops for a few hours before my flight was ready.   
***  
When I arrived in Australia, there was a car waiting to take me to the hotel we were staying at for the next few nights. I was happy to see Louis again, despite only being apart for a little while.   
They'd given us each our own rooms, but everybody knew that Louis and I would be staying together.   
He was laying on the bed when I got there, and he looked up and smiled when I closed the door.   
"Long time, no see," he said, sitting up and facing me.   
I rolled my eyes and set down my things before going over to kiss him hello.   
"You smell like smoke," I said, frowning and wrinkling my nose.   
Louis shrugged.   
"S'what you get when flying with Zayn, I guess," he said.   
"You have any?" I asked.   
"One or two, I guess," Louis said, "I can brush my teeth if you want."  
"Please," I said.  
He knew I wasn't very fond of his smoking, and really, it usually was just when he was with Zayn for an extended period of time. Weed was another matter, but I absolutely hated the smell of cigarettes.   
He came back with brushed-clean teeth. The smell still clung to his clothes but I figured that as long as he changed before we went to bed, I didn't mind much.   
"You have a good flight?" he asked, sitting down next to me and flinging his legs across my lap.   
"Slept for most of it," I replied.  
Louis hummed and let me kiss him for a few moments.   
"Kinda want to go swimming," he said, pulling away, "Or surfing. I haven't done that in ages."  
"You should take Liam with you," I suggested.   
Louis frowned slightly, like he had forgotten that we weren't really supposed to go out in public together. If we wanted to stay a secret for the time being, we couldn't give the public anything to wonder about, our management had said. We'd agreed, even though we had known it would be difficult.   
"I spent a lot of the time swimming when I kind of took off for a few weeks. After I left the city, I mean. I had a little beach cottage and all that. I should take you there some time," Louis said, almost dreamily.   
We didn't talk about what he had done- or almost done- when he had been gone. He had told me that he barely remembered most of it in the first place. I knew he'd wanted to kill himself and had almost jumped off of a bridge- I really needed to track down whoever had stopped him- and as far as I was concerned, I never wanted to know anything more.   
But the beach thing almost seemed like a good memory to him. I remembered how he had come back tan and his hair lighter from the sun. I'd never wondered about it.   
"If you want," I agreed, and then, "Tell me about it."   
Louis smiled. He was meant for the sun, I decided. Maybe he was the sun, I didn't know. For a moment, it seemed plausible.   
He shifted so that he wasn't quite so wrapped around me and laid on his side.   
"It's little. Just a couple rooms. I mean, it's not like tiny of anything, but you know what we're used to. I didn't need much, just somewhere to relax and try and figure out what was going on in my head. It's got a nice bed though. You'd like it. It's not too firm but it's not too soft. I fell asleep outside a lot, because I spent most of my time on the beach of in the water, but- don't give me that look, I was careful. I'd didn't even burn once- anyways, but it was nice for when I fell asleep inside, I guess. You'd like the kitchen too. There's a lot of fruit there. But my favorite thing was how private it was. I never saw another person- not even a ship in the distance or anything. It felt like I could have been the last person alive on earth and I was completely content where I was. Sometimes I'd swim out as far as I could, until I could barely see the beach, and then I'd just float around for hours and pretend like I was nothing. It sounds weird, but my mind was weird at the time," Louis explained.   
His voice was a murmur and he looked so peaceful that I almost didn't dare to breathe. His waist felt warm where my hand was, like he had just come in after hours of being in the sun like he was talking about.   
"Where was it?" I asked.   
Louis shrugged, blinking at me.   
"I've got no idea. Somebody rented it for me and they sent me a plane ticket. I wasn't really aware of what was going on, so I never paid attention to where I was or where I was going. I could ask, though," he said, "Maybe I will."   
"I'd buy it for you," I said, "If you wanted."   
"I'm sure I have more than enough money of my own, love," Louis chuckled.   
"But I want to buy it for you. It's like a gift then," I explained, "Because I love you and I want you to be happy. With me."  
"I could never be anything but happy with you," he promised, reaching out to hold my hand, "I'm not sure it's even available to be bought."  
"We could make it available," I pointed out, "With enough money."   
Louis snorted.   
"Alright, you diva pop star," he said, "If you want to buy me that cottage, buy me the damn thing."  
I grinned at him.   
"But for now," he continued, sitting up, "I'll have to settle for going out for a swim with Liam. You'll be alright?"  
I nodded.   
"Might go bother Niall for a bit. I kind of want one of those fancy cocktails too," I said, carefully gauging his reaction.  
He was in a good mood. He just smiled at me and brushed some of my hair away from my face.   
"You're my favorite," he said suddenly.   
"And you're mine," I replied.   
Louis smiled and leaned down to kiss me again before wandering off to find wherever Liam was.   
There were times when I couldn't help but doubt if he really loved me of if it really was just his mind tricking him into thinking that he was. I still couldn't believe that it was all true and that it was actually happening. It was the most amazing dream come true for me. But then I'd catch him smiling at me and all his explanation would be was that he loved me. Or he'd say it out of the blue, like I might have forgotten it because he hadn't said it in ten minutes. I had to believe him when he said it. I could bear the alternative.   
***   
He didn't come back for several hours, long enough for Niall and I to get a bit tipsy. I really had wanted one of their fancy cocktails that they had advertised when we had walked past the restaurant outside of the hotel.   
So I'd gone and bothered Niall, like I had told Louis that I would, and by the time Louis came back, we'd had several between us. Niall'd made fun of me, of course, and had ordered a pint to begin with, but he'd tried what I'd gotten and sheepishly ordered the same.   
"Having fun, lads?" Louis asked as he walked out onto the balcony that we were on.   
His hair was damp and his shoulders were a little pink, like he might have stayed out a little too long.  
Niall immediatly set down his glass.   
"S'water," he said quickly.   
Louis laughed.   
"I know what it is, mate. I'm okay with it," he said, "Budge over, yeah?"   
Niall got up instead.   
"I'll just leave you guys to whatever it is that you get up to when you're alone," he said cheerfully, "Just wear protection. We don't need any babies on this tour."   
I hummed and pushed my face into Louis' throat. He was warm. Like the sun.   
"Have fun, lovely?" he asked.   
I nodded.   
"You have fun?" I asked, and then in case he didn't know what I meant I added, "Surfing."  
"We didn't surf. There was too many people around and the waves were kind of shitty. So we just fucked around for a while. Got some food," he said, pulling my glass out of my hand and setting it down for me.  
He was a wonderful boyfriend, he was.   
"I love you," I murmured, tracing the ridge of his collarbones with my fingers.   
They looked sharp enough to cut me, so I stopped and put my hand on his thigh instead. I loved his thighs.   
"You tired at all, love?" he asked, taking the hand that was on his thigh.   
I pouted. I hadn't wanted him to make me stop touching him. But I supposed that holding his hand was almost as nice.   
And then all of a sudden, I felt like an absolute idiot.   
"I'm a terrible boyfriend," I said.  
It hadn't really occurred to me before.   
Louis looked at me sharply.   
"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, "You're absolutely perfect."  
I shook my head.   
"I was drinking," I told him, "That's such a shitty thing to do in front of you, I can't believe I did that. What's wrong with me?"   
Louis snorted.   
"Love, I told you that I want you to act normally around me when it comes to that. You know that. Just because I can't drink doesn't mean you can't," he said.  
I shook my head. He didn't understand.   
"I'm shoving it in your face. I'm tempting you. God, tell me honestly that seeing this doesn't make you want it at all right now," I said.   
Louis frowned, his eyes flicking over to the empty glasses. Then he sighed.   
"Of course I want it. You know that. But right now, I don't want it to make myself forget or to suppress what I'm feeling because I can't handle it. I don't want it in an unhealthy way. It would be different if I were upset right now, because then seeing you drink would be a lot harder for me and a lot more negative. But I'm not upset. I'm happy and content. I want it in a normal way, I guess. To have fun and to get a little tipsy with you. Maybe some part of me wants it in a bad way, but that part isn't big enough to make a difference. I want you to do what you want to do and not worry about me because I'm okay as long as you're happy," Louis said, squeezing my hand.   
"I shouldn't have done it," I muttered stubbornly.   
Louis rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.   
"You can feel whatever way you want about it, of course. I'm just saying that I don't care and I want you to have fun and be happy," he said.   
"There are other ways to do that," I replied.   
"Yeah. Look, I'll tell you if I'm ever uncomfortable, okay? Would that make you feel better?" he asked.   
"Louis. You'll never tell me if you're uncomfortable," I snorted.   
"I'll tell you about this. I know how much it means to you," he said.   
I barely believed him, but the alcohol was wearing off a bit and I was getting tired from the long flight before and from sitting out in the sun for so long. It was getting darker anyways. I yawned at him in lieu of an actual response.   
"Tired, lovely?" he asked, carding his fingers through my hair, "We can go to bed."  
"You should shower first. You hate it when the sea water dries in your hair," I pointed out.   
Louis smiled and nodded. We got up, taking the empty glasses inside and setting them on a table for the cleaning staff to collect.   
I didn't fall asleep while he was showering. It wasn't that I couldn't- I was exhausted- but I preferred to fall asleep with him than without him.   
When he came out of the shower, his towel was low on his hips and he grumbled at me when I stared at him for too long. He was unbearably attractive. I knew he wouldn't want to do anything- he was just as tired as I was and it was rare that he was up for it in any case- so I rolled over onto my stomach until he had thrown a pair of joggers on and crawled into bed next to me.   
"Hi," he murmured when I rolled over to face him.   
"Hi," I replied.   
He smiled and I smiled back.   
"We have to be up early tomorrow," I reminded him, "Have we got an alarm set?"   
"I did," he said.   
I hummed.   
"You know, I'm not sure we'll be able to sleep together on the bus," he said, "The spaces are too small, I think."  
"We'll make it work," I assured him, "One of us might just have to fall out of bed sometimes."  
"You," he said.   
"You shit," I muttered.   
Louis laughed and kissed me before I could say anything else.   
And truthfully, I'd take falling out of bed over not being able to sleep with him any time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! If anybody has any idea suggestions (mostly for filler chapters) can you please comment them? Part of why it takes so long to update is my having a lack of ideas. Thank you!!!


	33. Chapter 33

Harry's POV 

We had an early morning and Louis was grumpy, needless to say. He had even bit me when I had tried to kiss him before he had any tea and then he had gone and showered without me. I'd had to take a cold and lonely shower and by the time I had gotten out, the cup of tea I'd made for myself was cold too and Louis was back in bed.   
"Lou, come on. We've got to be down to the cars in like five minutes," I said, trying to pull the sheets away from him.   
He glared at me.   
"You can sleep in the car?" I tried, "C'mon, you're being ridiculous."  
"If I'm being so bloody ridiculous, why don't you just leave without me?" he snapped, but he got out of bed just the same.   
Grumpy Louis was probably my least favorite Louis. Angry Louis could be soothed and Sad Louis could be cuddled out of it, but there was nothing to be done with Grumpy Louis except wait it out. The wait was always absolutely agonizing and painful for anybody he interacted with.   
It seemed like one of those days.   
He was sullen and moody the entire ride to the arena. Even Zayn couldn't make him smile.   
Louis did rest his head on my shoulder, which I thought counted for something. I almost felt smug about it, in a way, that he was at least being a little sweet with me even if he wasn't with anybody else.   
He was sullen all through the run-through of the show too. Louis managed to snap at Niall when he got in his way.   
"Mate, can you get him to be at least a little friendly? It's our first show. If he's acting like this onstage, it'll look bad," Liam murmured to me when Louis slammed the door to the toilet unnecessarily loudly, "We can't afford that. Especially not him."  
I sighed and nodded.   
"He's just tired," I said weakly, for what felt like the thousandth time of the day.   
"He's stressed," Liam corrected, "And tired."   
I nodded again and patted him on the shoulder before wandering to the toilet after Louis.   
"Lou?" I asked.   
"What do you want?" he grumbled, drying his hands.   
"I want to talk," I said simply.   
Louis rolled his eyes and tried to shoulder past me, but I grabbed his wrist.   
"Louis, love, you've got to cut this out. I don't know what wrong, but everyone's been asking me to find out so we can cheer you up a little," I said.   
He scowled at me.   
"Well I'm sorry that I'm being such a burden," he snapped.   
He tried to wriggle away, but I just held him tighter.   
"You're not being a burden. We just hate seeing you unhappy and you clearly aren't happy right now. Come here, Lou. We can have a cuddle in the dressing room or something if that'll help you. I'll even kick everyone else out," I said.   
"Whatever," Louis sighed, but he followed me out.   
Miraculously, Liam was the only one left in the dressing room and it only took a quick flick of my head towards the door for him to get up and leave.   
I let us get comfortable on the sofa in the corner of the room before saying anything. Louis curled up as small as he could and settled himself in my lap. It was a position we never found ourselves in unless there was something that was seriously upsetting him.   
"Will you please talk to me?" I asked, kissing the back of his neck.   
"I don't know what you want me to say," he muttered, but there was substantially less bite in his voice than before.   
"What's bothering you," I replied.   
"Nothing is," Louis said, but it was a lie and we both knew it.   
I let him sit in silence for a few minutes. It was no use pushing something when he was in a mood.   
And then, finally, "I'm just tired," he said quietly.  
"Did you sleep at all last night?" I asked.   
He shook his head.   
"Lou, you know you can wake me up," I protested.   
He shrugged. I knew that no matter how many times that I told him to wake me up when he couldn't sleep, he never would.   
"Even if you're just tired, you never act like this," I continued.   
"What do you want me to say, Harry?" Louis sighed irritably, "You already know."   
"No, I don't," I corrected him, "I have an idea, but I never really know what's going on in that head of yours."   
"Well it's whatever your idea is, then," Louis snapped.   
He was getting angry again and I had no desire to deal with an angry Louis.   
I shifted him a little higher in my lap. He didn't struggle but he was tense enough that I knew that I had to be careful or he would bolt.   
"Baby, please talk to me," I murmured, nosing into his neck, "I just wanted to make you feel better."   
Finally, Louis' shoulders slumped and he relaxed the tiniest bit.   
"I was telling the truth. I am tired," he said quietly.   
"Not the whole truth," I said.   
"No. I'm nervous too. Like, I feel like I might be sick if I think about going up on stage. Like, what if he's out there? I won't know. I don't want him to see me, Harry, please don't let him," Louis said quickly, hunching to bury his face in my shirt.   
He sounded so little and afraid that it hurt to know that I was completely powerless.   
"We can give a description to security if you want," I suggested.   
Louis shook his head.   
"He's not the only guy out there that matches his description. If they stopped someone, they'd need me to confirm it was or wasn't him and I can't do that," he said, his fingers wrapping around the collar of my shirt, "If it was him, I couldn't do that. I couldn't see him again."   
I was ridiculously in love with him.   
"We can still call it off, if you're not ready," I said.   
I knew what he'd say before he did.   
"Absolutely not," he snapped, "I've kept them waiting long enough, haven't I? I won't do it any more. I'll get over it, I'm sure."  
"If you don't feel safe Louis, or you're not completely sure you can handle this, then I don't want you to do it. You can sit this concert out or as many concerts as you want until you feel okay with it," I said, "It can just be the four of us for a while until you're okay with it."   
"No," Louis said, "I can't."  
"You're allowed to do what you need to do, Louis," I said, "What matters most- to everyone- is you being okay."  
I was trying to be calm but it was frustrating, trying to get him to realize that his mental health came before his obligations.   
"I am okay," he protested, "Look, I'll be fine. I'm just nervous. You get nervous all the time."   
"Not like this, Louis," I said.   
He was quiet for a while. He looked more relaxed, but there was a tension about him that I didn't like. There was a tension between us that I didn't like.   
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you feel like I was attacking you," I said.   
"You didn't. I know you worry," he said, his eyes closed, "I worry about you too."  
"You've been drinking a lot of water today," I said carefully.   
It had occurred to me that he possibly just could have been thirsty or had a dry mouth, but I knew that that wasn't it.   
Louis nodded.   
"I think it'd be easier if I could just have a couple drinks to calm down," he said, and then added quickly, "I'm not going to, obviously. Not sure I could even get anything if I tried. There's nothing around here because of me and nobody'd take me to get some."   
"Would you? If you could, I mean," I asked.   
My heart was beating hard. I hated knowing that he hadn't had the same treatment that I had, that he had quit by himself. I figured it was probably harder for him to stay clean than it was for me because I'd had professional help and he hadn't. He'd had his therapist, sure, but it wasn't the same that I'd had.   
Louis shrugged.   
"Right now? I don't know. But earlier, or later, like right before the show- I'm sure that it'll get a lot worse then- definetely," he said.   
He sounded ashamed. I hated it.   
"Do you need anything from me? To make this any easier?" I asked, swallowing hard.   
"Just don't get mad at me, okay? I'm trying, I promise. I'm sorry if I act a little grumpy," he said.  
"I'm not mad, Louis," I said gently, "Nobody is. It's just that it can be frustrating not knowing how to help you when you act like this."  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking at me.   
He looked so scared.   
"Baby, there's nothing to be sorry about," I murmured.   
He smiled the tiniest bit and it looked forced, but it was something.  
"Baby," he repeated.   
He seemed a little calmer, but I didn't want to let him go back to the sound check until I knew he was completely okay.   
"Louis, I know you might not want to, but if there's even a second where you're not completely sure you want to do this, even if it's during the show and we're onstage, you tell one of us and you can leave, okay? Nobody will hold a thing against you," I said.   
I knew he wouldn't listen and it drove me crazy.   
But then, he drove me crazy in general.   
"I know you want what's best for me, but I want what's best for all of us," he said, "And that means doing the show even though I'm a little nervous."  
"You're not a little nervous.  
I've seen you a lot nervous and I've never seen you like this before. And if you dare think about any of us, Louis, before you think of your own wellbeing-"  
I knew he was getting annoyed with me then, because he shut me up by kissing me.   
I didn't necessarily object to that. It meant that he was actually listening to me if he was getting annoyed by it. Plus, kissing Louis was never something I would mind.   
"Okay. I'll tell you if I'm not alright," he said quietly, barely pulling back enough to speak.   
"Promise?" I asked.   
Louis nodded, and kissed me again.   
He let me cuddle him for a little while longer before he decided that it was time for us to go.   
I didn't want to let him go. I knew that he still wasn't entirely happy or comfortable and heading out to join everyone else while knowing that made me worry.   
But I also knew that if I didn't trust his decision, that he'd be upset.   
***  
As the show approached, it was obvious how scared he was. He went from sullen to frantic, tapping on his knees or a table top and fidgeting more than usual. He spoke rapidly, talking with his hands and running them through his hair. I could tell that he was sweating even from a distance. He looked, quite frankly, terrified.   
He slowly went from his normal color to pale, and then absolutely ashen as we stood on the side of the stage. We could hear the crowd and I grabbed his hand. It was clammy. He didn't seem to notice that I was holding it. He was staring straight ahead.   
I was excited, but I hardly noticed it with how worried I was about him.   
"I think I'm going to be sick," he whispered.   
I didn't doubt it, from the way he looked, so I steered him in the direction of the first bin I saw. I pushed him to his knees and rubbed his back as he got sick.   
He'd be embarrassed about vomiting in front of everyone later, I was sure, but at the moment he probably didn't care. His shirt was soaked through in the back from his sweat and his hands shook around the edges of the bin.   
"Louis, you're not going out there. I'm not going to let you," I said once he finished.   
He shook his head, but I could see the tears in his eyes. He was so scared and it broke my heart.   
"It's making you sick, baby," I murmured, taking his hand again, "I can't let you do this to yourself. It's not good for you."   
I brushed his hair back from where it was sticking to his forehead. He closed his eyes and shook his head again. He squeezed my hand tightly.   
"I'll be fine," he said, his voice barely a whisper.   
"No, you won't. This is terrifying you Louis and I won't let you go out there. It's not fair to you and it won't be fair to the fans, if that's what you're worried about," I said.  
"I have to," he said, shaking his head, "I have to, for myself."  
I didn't know what to do. He was so afraid of going out onstage that he was sweating through his clothes and getting sick, but I was afraid of what would happen if we forced him to sit out.   
"What if you just sat this one out, lovely? You can do the next one if you feel better then," I suggested.   
I made eye contact with Liam, who was hovering awkwardly a few feet away with Niall and Zayn. I shrugged at him.   
"I can't," Louis said helplessly, "I can't let him beat me."   
"Louis, he's not beating you. Look at me- he's not. Listen. I can't let you go out there like this. Ask any medic. You are not in any shape to perform right now," I said.   
I hated trying to be stern with him, but I had to. Even if he looked a little hurt at the tone of my voice, anything was worth it if it kept him safe.   
"You don't understand," Louis mumbled, getting up, "I'm going on. Whether you like it or not."  
"You are not going on, Louis," I said, "Nobody is going to let you. Listen, love. You're sick. You are. You're not stable enough right now to go out there and you might think you're doing what's best, but if you have a complete meltdown on stage, how is that the best thing for you?"   
Louis straightened up, looking more angry than afraid.   
"I fucking know what's best for me, Harry," he snapped, " Quit patronizing me. I just need to get over it, okay? I'm not a child, so quit treating me like one!"   
I turned around, facing the little crowd of the boys and the crew that had gathered.   
"Do any of you think he should go on? Please, speak up if you do," I ordered.   
I felt Louis bristle beside me when nobody so much as breathed.   
"There you go. It's not just me 'patronizing' you. It's all of us being genuinely concerned for you and your safety because we love you and we can't let you go out there," I said, turning back to him.   
Louis narrowed his eyes, glaring steadily at me. He was fuming.   
"Guess what? I don't give a flying fuck what you think I should do. I want to go out there and I will because I'm not some little boy that you can just toss backstage and hire a babysitter for when I become an inconvenience. You literally can't stop me from performing and I fucking will, do you understand me? Some shit boyfriend you are. Trying to smother me and dehumanize me," he spat.   
I flinched and backed away from him.   
"Fine. Do what you want, then," I mumbled.   
I didn't feel like fighting with him anymore. I couldn't just pretend that what he'd said hadn't hurt. I tried so hard to be supportive and caring and the perfect boyfriend. I hadn't realized that he'd thought it had been too much.   
"I'm going to just go grab a drink before we go on, then," I said.   
I wanted anything but to stay there and look at him sweaty and pale from fear. I wanted to comfort him and to keep him from anything that scared him, but he didn't want that.   
I walked away quickly. We had a bunch of water bottles set up right off stage that I could have grabbed instead, but I wasn't thirsty so much as wanting to get away.   
I knew that I was running from the problem and that I was being a coward, but he had hurt me and I didn't trust myself not to yell at him if I had stayed. Yelling at him would only upset him even more and it would turn into an even bigger mess.   
I stood in my dressing from for a few minutes, absently checking my phone and dutifully drinking from a bottle of water. Really, it was my and Louis' dressing room, but we always requested five at each venue to keep up appearances. There would always be an extra dressing room that would never be used. It was there if Louis wanted space, but I hoped it wouldn't be utilized.   
I stayed in the room until one of the backstage attendants poked his head in and told me that there was five minutes until we were on.   
I sighed and set my water down before following him- slowly.   
Louis wasn't with the rest of the boys when I came back.   
I didn't have to ask.   
"He's getting his hair redone," Liam said quietly, "And changing too, I think. He was all sweaty."  
I nodded. I was starting to feel sick myself. I felt incredibly guilty for just leaving Louis when he clearly wasn't okay.   
"He's going on, Harry. I know you hate that, and all of us do too. But we can't decide what he does for him, as much as I think that he's making a stupid decision. We can force him to stay back but you know that will only make him angry and upset. If it turns out horrifically, he'll at least learn," he continued.   
I swallowed against the irritated response in my throat. Liam was right. I knew that. But that didn't make me want to lock Louis in a room to keep him safe any less.   
I felt a careful hand on my back before Louis pulled me away from everyone else.   
"I'm sorry," he whispered in my ear.   
I could feel his hand shaking, so I reached back to hold it.   
"Please don't do this to yourself," I replied, "Baby, don't."  
Louis shook his head. His hair wasn't as flat and damp as it had been, but I could see little beads of sweat along his hairline. He still looked pale and sick.   
"You don't understand. I have to," he said, looking helpless.   
I wasn't sure that he quite understood it himself.   
"What do I have to do to make you sit this one out? Louis, I swear I'll do anything," I begged, "You can do the one tomorrow. Please don't do this show."  
"I'm so scared," was all he said.   
He crumpled forwards into a hug, and I knew then that I couldn't convince him.   
"Promise me that you'll stop if it gets to be too much for you. Promise," I demanded.   
"I promise," he said quietly.   
His fingers dug into my waist so tightly that it hurt.   
"I don't like that you feel the need to do this," I sighed.   
Louis didn't say anything.   
"Lads, I hate to do this, but we've got to be on in about a minute," Liam said over my shoulder.   
Louis and I seperated.   
"Do you need to be sick again?" I asled him.   
"I don't think so," he said, but his face was completely colorless and he looked like he was swaying a little.   
He was starting to sweat again.   
We did our typical pre-show chant and he immediately pressed against my side as we walked to the platforms that would lift us up to the stage.   
"I want a drink so badly right now," Louis said, his hand shaking in mine, "Anything. Even some shitty beer. I just need something to calm me down."   
"Baby, you know it won't do anything to calm you down. You've worked so hard to stop drinking. You'll get through this, I promise," I said, squeezing his hand tightly.   
"I want to get drunk," he breathed, "I can imagine how good it would feel right now to have a drink."   
I wasn't a therapist. I didn't know what to say to him. So I didn't say anything at all.   
Louis licked his lips and cleared his throat a few times. I didn't want to know what was going through his head.   
"I don't remember any of our songs," he whispered eventually.   
"One of us can sing for you. We'll say you're sick," I said, "If at any time you even think it's too much, please go offstage."   
Louis nodded.   
His eyes were wide as he stepped on to his platform. He gripped one of the ropes attached to it and his microphone in his other hand.   
He looked over to me right before we were introduced. I thought that he might have had tears in his eyes.   
The platforms shot up and us along with them.   
The crowd was deafening and big and I pressed my in-ears in more tightly in an attempt to cover the noise up a bit. I glanced over at Louis. He hadn't moved from his spot on the platform. I heard Liam and Niall talking to the crowd- yelling, really- and it took everything in me not to run over to Louis and check on him.   
I couldn't, though. We both knew how heavily our actions were scrutinized and if we wanted to keep our relationship covered up in the near future, our interactions had to be limited.   
I made eye contact with Zayn. He nodded and went over to Louis.   
I brought the microphone to my mouth and started talking.   
As it turned out, Louis hadn't forgotten the songs. All of his nervous energy was actually a benefit. He bounced from one side of the stage to the other, almost hysterically, and messed around with the crowd. It was clear that they adored him. They cheered the loudest during his solos and the amount of signs I saw for him was insane. I loved it. I loved that they loved him.  
He was a Louis I hadn't seen in a long time on stage. It was weird.   
There was a moment when he looked over to me during one of the songs. He was still afraid, I realized. He'd been scanning the crowd the entire night, searching for a face that only he knew. Of course Louis hadn't seen him. It was a huge audience. The probability of Louis seeing him even if he was there was minuscule.   
Louis sent me a tiny smile. He was trying not to show how scared he was. I wondered if the fans would pick up on it. They were very good at noticing things but Louis was doing a fantastic job at pretending that he was okay.   
By the time the concert was over, Louis wasn't the only one who had sweat through his shirt.   
The boys were jumping around backstage, pulling each other and us into maniacal hugs.   
"We smashed that," Niall said.   
I had to agree. For our first show back, it had been amazing.   
Louis was quiet back in our dressing room. I wanted desperately to know what was going through his head but I didn't want to pry.   
"I didn't see him," Louis said quietly as I was pulling my shirt on, "But it makes me feel sick to think that he still could have been there and I will never know for sure if he was or not."   
I turned towards him.   
"Even if he was, you were amazing tonight, Louis. All he would have seen was you being completely flawless," I said sincerely.   
Louis shrugged, picking at a loose thread on his shirt.  
"Doesn't really change the fact though, does it? It terrifies me to think he could be somewhere out there, regardless of how well we did or not," he muttered.   
"Baby, maybe you're not ready yet. Maybe we shouldn't have come back so soon," I said, pulling his hand away from the thread before he could tear a hole in his shirt.   
"And what? Pushed it back even more? I'll never get over this, I think, regardless of how many times we go onstage. There will always be this stupid fear that's going to go onstage with me every single night. I'm a performer. It's what a do for a living. I can't let this stop me from doing my job, but Christ, it feels like it could," Louis blurted.   
"Louis, if you need to take a break from the band for a while, or leave," I said slowly.   
There was a massive pause that made my heart rise in my throat.   
"No. I couldn't. I couldn't do that you, or the boys, or the fans. The show must go on, yeah? I'll talk to my therapist and figure out wants going on in my head. I think I'll be okay. I'll always be scared, but I really think it'll be manageable after the first couple shows we do. I made it through this one just fine," Louis said.   
"I don't want it to affect you mentally in the long run," I said, "I can't watch you just deteriorate like you did while I was gone."   
"It's different this time. I have you," Louis said quietly, taking my other hand that wasn't already in his.   
I smiled despite myself. It was so sweet.   
"Listen. I know almost every else is going out, and-"  
"And I'm staying in with you," I said, interrupting him before he could say anything else, "Because there's nowhere that I'd rather be."  
"Harry, you should go out and have fun with everybody else," Louis snorted, but he had a pleased sort of smile on his face.   
"I'll have more fun just being with you. I love you," I said.   
"I don't want to keep you from having fun and being a normal human being for once," he said as we walked out of our dressing room together.   
"Love, there is nothing normal about us. About me. Even if I went out, it would be to some high-class club that normal people couldn't dream of getting into. Let's let the others have the hangovers for us, okay? I'd rather cuddle with you and watch a shitty movie until we fall asleep anyways," I said.   
Louis' smile grew bigger, and then faded abrubtly.   
"I still do want a drink. Not as badly as I did before the show, but the urge is still there," he said, not looking at me.   
"Then let's get you some water," I said, ignoring the way he rolled his eyes at me.   
***  
By the time we got into our hotel room, I knew that watching a movie was out of the question. Louis was half asleep on his feet and I wasn't much better. Being panicked and stressed all day after a rough night had really taken a lot out of him.   
It was a struggle to get him out of his clothes and into bed before he fell asleep and I doubted that he would even remember getting undressed in the morning.   
I took a shower first before getting in bed next to him. He still smelled like sweat and post-show Louis. It wasn't the most pleasant smell, but I loved him the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm such a piece of shit for being so slow at updating!!! I'm sorryyyyy. The good thing is, is that the next chapter is one I've been planning since I started this story, really. And then from there, there should only be a few more chapters to this!!!   
> Hey, if you want to follow me on tumblr, it's   
> il0vem0lly  
> with the o's being zeros.   
> I realized the other day that I've never asked if any of you wanted to follow me, so there you go!  
> Love you!!!!


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TW!!!!!!!!!!! Please do not read if you are easily triggered! If you are, please tell me and I can give you a summary if you would like!  
> ALSO, super important announcements at the bottom!

** Harry's POV **

It went on like that for a while.

It was heartbreaking to watch Louis suffer through anxiety attacks every night before he went out onstage. I knew it couldn't have been enjoyable for him- obviously not- but he refused to sit out a single show. I couldn't help but wonder what all the stress would do to him long-term. It wasn't healthy for him to be so anxious all of the time and I was terrified that he would find unhealthy habits to cope. He admitted that before every show, all he could think about was going out for a drink.

The only benefit was that by the time the shows ended and we got back to the hotel we were staying at on a particular night, Louis would be so exhausted that he'd sleep the whole night through.

Our tour schedule was so that we would have two or three concerts and then have a few days for ourselves. There were longer breaks scattered in between. We'd asked for more time off so that it wouldn't be quite so stressful for Louis and I. It was mostly for Louis, but nobody said it out loud. I was fine, really. I loved to perform and see all of our fans. I had missed being onstage during our hiatus. The only thing that I didn't like about performing was worrying about Louis the entire show. I always had my eye on him, making sure that he was dealing with being onstage in front of thousands of strangers alright.

It never really got any better. Louis woke up in the mornings irritable and stressed and stayed like that until a few hours before the show. There was always a very definitive point where he would start getting scared. He would gradually stop talking to people and start clinging more to me. As time passed, he would start getting pale and sweaty and that was when I knew that the only things he could think about were Ben and getting drunk. Sound checks normally went alright. He'd do what he had to or what he was told to, but nothing more or less.

It got bad when Louis realized there was less than an hour before the show.

Every time he looked at his watch and saw how quickly time was ticking down, he'd disappear and I would almost always find him getting sick in the closest toilet. The only exception was one night when he had been more okay than I'd ever seen him. He was still scared out of his mind, but he never got sick or dizzy like he normally would. I never could figure out what was different about that night, and I hated that I couldn't. If I could make it even just slightly easier on Louis, then I would do anything.

By the time the show was just about to start, Louis would have a full-blown panic attack. It was difficult to get him out of them and breathing and functioning properly because there was no way that I could convince him that he would be okay. I couldn't remove him from the situation because he refused and I couldn't promise him that Ben wasn't out there somewhere. Liam, Niall and I had spent a few hours on the internet searching ways to help Louis calm down but I didn't want to have to help him calm down. I wanted him to never have to worry about anything in the first place.

 Once we were actually onstage, he would get better. He was never completely comfortable. I would watch him nervously scan the audience every time he got a chance. I prayed that, even though I hated Ben and thought the worst of him, he was a decent enough guy to stay far away from our shows.

It was putting a serious strain on our relationship and it made me feel sick.

It was exhausting for him to be so stressed and anxious all the time and it was exhausting for me to deal with it. I loved Louis more than I had ever thought was physically possible to love somebody, but there were days when he would say nothing nice at all, not even to me. I hated the way that he snapped at everyone- including me. I fully understood why, and I supported him and loved him no matter what, but days passed without any form of affection from him. There was little to remind me that I was even dating him in the first place during the day. We slept in the same bed at night, but that was about as much contact as we would have all day.

I never brought it up to him because I didn't want to give him something else to worry about when he already had so much to deal with.

But I couldn't help feeling neglected a little bit.

I remembered a time when I had first come back from rehab, when nobody was allowed to touch Louis. He had explained to me much later that it had felt like he was being burned whenever somebody touched him, especially when he wasn't expecting it.

It was almost like that again. He shrugged off hugs and kisses from me and stepped away if anybody tried to pat his back.

Ben never left his mind.

I tried to be there for him as much as he would let me, but he pushed me away more times than he didn't. I knew that he couldn't help it, but when he slept at night, exhausted from a long day of panic, I couldn't help but stay up and worry about our relationship. I prayed that whatever rough patch we were in wouldn't lead to anything worse. I didn't know what I would do.

It was only the start of the tour. I didn't know what I would do if something didn't change and I had to deal with Louis being so distant the entire tour.

It wasn't healthy for either of us.

So, it didn't surprise me when he started snapping at me just as much as the other boys, or when he stopped clinging to me when he got scared and went to sit in a room by himself instead. It didn't make it hurt any less.

The only moments of affection I got was when he was nodding off against my shoulder and mumbling that he loved me and that he was sorry for 'being such a twat' traveling from the venues every night. It was almost routine.

Louis was in a particularly bad mood before a concert one night.

I kept telling myself that we just had to get through the concert and then we would have a week and a half off to do what we wanted.

But it was hard, when Louis was trying to pick a fight with everybody he came across. I was exhausted. Louis hadn't slept well the night before and I had been up most of the night between waking him up from several nightmares and worrying myself sick about our future. Neither of us had had time for breakfast or showering because we had slept through the alarms and that had put him in an absolutely foul mood right from waking up.

He was being unecessarily rude to crew members and had even gone so far as to shout at Lux and make her cry when she tried to get his attention by pulling on his shirt. He didn't even apologize before storming off.

Eventually I found time to bring him lunch in a vain effort to curb his bad mood. It was getting increasingly worse, his manic, nervous energy mixing badly with how irritible he was. Most of the crew, even the boys, were at a limit with how much they could tolerate from him.

I cornered him and brought him into our shared dressing room. Our clothes weren't even there yet, but I wanted him to be by himself for a while so that he could hopefully relax a little bit.

Louis didn't say anything when I handed him the sandwhich that I had managed to get for him. He took it and placed it on a table in front of the couch he was sitting on.

"You doing alright today?" I asked carefully.

Louis shrugged and picked at the wrapping on the sandwhich. I was terrified to push him too much.

"I'm fine," he said quietly.

"If you're tired, we've got a little time. You can sleep for a while once you finish your food," I suggested.

Louis looked up.

"I said I'm fine, Harry. I don't need a fucking babysitter," he snapped, "And you know I don't like tomatoes."

I glanced at his sandwhich.

"Sorry love, I was in a rush. Give them to me, I'll put them on mine," I said.

I was genuinely surprised when he didn't fight it. Instead he picked off the tomatoe slices and handed them to me.

We sat in silence for a while. He didn't make a move to eat.

"Aren't you hungry? I could get you something else, if you would like. Or some tea," I said, trying to get him to say anything, anything to me.

He rolled his eyes.

"Are you deaf? I don't need a babysitter. I'm fully capable of handling myself. I didn't even ask you for this fucking sandwhich. I'm not hungry right now, alright?" Louis muttered, dutifully picking at the edge of the bread and putting a tiny piece in his mouth.

"I just figured that since we didn't eat breakfast, you'd be hungry. I'm sorry," I said quietly.

I didn't know what else to say. I wasn't used to this tense, unfamiliarity with him. Things between Louis and I were always so easy. We had come together in a pretty messed up way, and we each had our own issues that we couldn't quite shake, but as far as our relationship went, after the initial uncertainty, I had never questioned it.

"So now I'm the bad guy," Louis growled, "Fantastic."

"What? Louis, I never said that," I said, confused.

"You insinuated it. Just leave me alone, okay?" he said.

"Louis, I'm not trying to make you feel like the bad guy. And I don't want to leave you alone. I'd like to at least just sit with you for a while, if that's alright with you. We've barely talked at all the past couple days," I said earnestly.

Louis sighed and dropped his sandwhich onto the table like he was incredibly frustrated with me.

"And I supposed that's my fault too, then? Because I can't get over my anxiety long enough to hold your hand for a little while or something? I'm sorry that I'm more worried about being able to breathe sometimes than whether not I've kissed you that day," he said.

It stung. I wasn't sure what exactly it was, his tone, perhaps, or something else, but whatever it was hurt.

"Louis, that's not what I meant and you know that. Baby, listen. That's not what I meant at all. It's just a little hard seeing you like this and not knowing what to do about it. I hate that you're not okay and I'm willing to do anything to help you. But I can't do anything if you won't give me anything to go off of. You're my boyfriend, Louis, and you won't talk to me or touch me or do anything to let me know that _we're_ okay. I need to know that you and I and our relationship is okay," I said.

It felt good to tell him that. I was so worried about him that I'd been repressing what I was feeling and it felt good to get it out in the air.

Louis didn't say anything. Whatever good thing I had felt disappeared.

"Are we not okay?" I asked tentatively.

"I don't have time for this," Louis said, standing abrubtly and making his way towards the door.

" _Don't_ , Louis," I said, surprising myself with how much force I put into it, "You have time. You can't just all but tell me that we're not okay and then walk away like that. We're going to talk about this, even if you don't want to."

The look he gave me when he turned around was positively poisonous.

"At least eat, Louis. Please. If you don't want to talk, fine," I sighed, "But eat a little, alright? For me."

"Look who's talking," Louis said, his eyes narrow.

I stared at him.

"I'm not the one that almost fucking _died_ because I was starving myself. Some of us can actually handle skipping a meal or two, Harry. Not all of us are like you," he said.

It was the first time he had ever made me feel ashamed of what I had done. The room felt hot all of a sudden and the sandwhich that I had eaten rolled around in my stomach uncomfortably.

"Louis," I said quietly.

A warning.

He was starting something that we both knew couldn't end well.

 "You want to talk about our relationship, then? Well, fine. You're clingy and you're being really fucking annoying lately. You won't leave me alone and you're only making everything worse. And if you think that I'm a pain in the arse to take care of or whatever you must think after this concerts, have you ever taken a look at yourself? I've got to moniter everything you eat and I've got to make sure you're not doing some fucked-up thing like cutting yourself again. You're not making this any easier on me, if that's what you think you're doing. You're not," Louis spat, his words dripping with acid.

I was stunned. He thought I was a burden. He thought I was fucked-up. It made me feel more sick than anything else he had ever said.

I knew that whatever he was saying, he didn't mean. He couldn't. He had told me so many times that he didn't blame me for anything I had done and that he _didn't_ think I was a fuck-up.

But he had caught me in a moment where I was feeling insecure enough to believe it.

Louis' eyes were wild as he stared at me, challanging me.

So of course I fell for it.

Anger flared up in me, fueled by sleepless nights and frustration.

"Louis, you barely even bother checking me anymore. Whereas I have to be by your side at all times to make sure you're not off somewhere drinking yourself into oblivion! Maybe you think I'm fucked up, or you think that it's annoying that you have to keep _such_ a careful watch on me, even though you fucking don't, maybe get your head out of your arse and realize that I'm not the only  one in this relationship that's fucked-up," I snarled.

"At least I have a valid reason. _I_ had to deal with the trauma of you trying to off yourself because you were in love with me. Talk about dramatic. People deal with unrequited love all the time," he growled.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I spat, "You never had to go through what I went though. You have no idea how much it hurt, watching you parading around and shoving your girlfriend in my face. You know what? Maybe if I'm such a burden, such a fuck-up, maybe you should just bloody go back to Eleanor!"

Louis stared at me, his eyes cold and his face hard.

"Maybe I fucking _will_ ," he said.

Then he turned around and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

I'd never be able to say exactly what happened after that.

All I knew was that I couldn't get his words out of my head.

 _'Fucked-up', 'clingy', 'Maybe I will'_ spun around in my head, making me dizzy. I felt like throwing up and I felt like screaming.

In that moment, it seemed perfectly logical to me that we had just broken up and he was on his way back to Eleanor because she was less fucked-up than I was.

In that moment, it seemed like he didn't love me anymore and that he had just left me for good.

In that moment, every insecurity that I had ever had about our relationship hit me and I felt like I was seventeen and realizing he didn't love me like _that_ for the first time.

In the next moment, I opened my eyes to red.

 

**Louis' POV**

I regretted everything the moment that I walked out of the door.

Honestly, I probably regretted everything before I had even opened my mouth.

Of course I hadn't meant anything that I had said to him and I knew that he hadn't meant anything that he had said to me.

Still, it hurt.

But I knew that it was about time that we had had our first real fight. It sounded ridiculous, but things were almost always perfect between us. Sure, we got in a few little arguments here and there, but we had never gotten into an actual fight. I knew that I was in the wrong and that I had been a total arse to him, but it was almost satisfying in a messed-up way to know that we loved each other enough to fight so badly.

I hoped that he realized that it had just been a stupid fight.

I walked around in the hallways for a while, trying to cool myself off before I went back to apologize. It was no use going back just to keep fighting.

I hated the way I had been acting. It sounded selfish to say that I couldn't help it, because I probably could have, but it was a defense mechanism. Push everybody away and they can't hurt you.

I was angry at Ben for making me so scared and helpless and I was angry at myself for not being able to calm down and stop panicking for one show. I was angry at my head for giving me awful nightmares and making me wake up exhausted every morning. I was angry for wanting to drink so badly and I was angry for being angry.

I was the most angry that I had taken everything out on my friends and my boyfriend.

I leaned against the wall for a little while, resting my cheek against the cool, smooth surface. It felt nice.

After a few minutes, I decided to head back with my tail between my legs and my head hung low to apologize.

The second I opened the door to our dressing room, I knew something was wrong.

Harry wasn't there, which shouldn't have struck me as odd. He probably had gone somewhere to cool off too.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something that wasn't right.

Somebody retched from the adjoining bathroom.

I'd never moved so quickly.

At first, I thought Harry had just gotten sick.

But then he looked up.

There was blood smeared across his tear-stained face and when he sat up a little more to look at me, I noticed the blood covering his arm and his hands.

"Louis," he whispered, "Louis, I don't know-"

The room spun.

And then I was on my knees, scrambling across the bathroom floor to get to him, to hold him.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," I said frantically, prying my razor from his hands, "No, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you so much, Harry, I'd never leave you. I'm so sorry."

I wasn't sure if he knew what was happening. His face was white and his eyes rolled like he couldn't focus on my face.

"Fuck, Harry," I hissed, grabbing at his arm.

I couldn't see what he'd done around how much he was bleeding, but I knew that it had to be bad. I didn't know what else to do, so I grabbed a wad of paper towels to wrap around his wrist.

I'd made him do it.

I'd made him cut for the first time since he'd tried to kill himself so many months before and I started to cry. I knew that I had no right to, but I couldn't help it. His fingers bled against my shirt when he tried to grab onto me. He'd tried to rip out the individual blades out with his fingers.

"Harry, please. Say something. Baby, I'm so sorry, I love you so much," I murmured, trying to make him focus on me.

His mouth was stained red when he leaned forwards to spit blood on his shirt. My heart stopped for a moment. I'd only been gone for ten minutes at the most.

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and sent a panicked text to Liam, who happened to be the first person I could think of. Blood smeared across the screen.

"Please," I begged him as he blinked at me, his mouth moving soundlessly.

I squeezed the paper towels around his wrist, trying to stop them from falling off. He didn't even grimace. 

"I needed to throw up," he mumbled in my ear.

I didn't get a chance to say anything before I heard Liam's voice in the room and him swearing loudly when he entered the bathroom.

He disappeared before I had a chance to say anything.

I buried my face in Harry's shoulder and cried. I didn't know what to do, or what to say to fix what I had done. I felt like a monster and I felt like I wanted to die. I couldn't believe that I had made Harry feel so bad that the only thing that he could think of was cutting himself again.

Before I knew it, the toilet was crowded with people and I was being pulled away from Harry. I didn't even have the strength to protest, even though I wanted to.

Somebody took Harry away. I didn't see Harry leave through Liam's shirt as he pulled me into a hug. I couldn't help but cry harder. I had never felt so guilty and so terrible in my entire life. I would have rather encountered Ben again, as many times as I could, than know that I had made Harry cut himself. Had he made himself throw up, too? I didn't know.

 All I knew was that I would never forgive myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> So, I've been thinking a lot lately.  
> 1\. I'm going to finish this series as soon as possible- only about three or so more chapters.  
> 2\. Once I do that, I'm going to rewrite the entire thing- Im talking major editing. I'm not proud of this work anymore and I really want to renovate it to be something that I can be proud of.   
> 3\. After I'm done editing, I'm going to post the edited version on my ao3 account and delete this current version. Don't worry if you like this version! I'm going to keep this version on my Wattpad account.   
> 4\. I want to be proud of my account in general, so within the next month, I'm going to delete Remember off of this account but keep it on my Wattpad account. It's such a carroty, beginners-level fic and I really don't like it. But, I know that some of you do, so I will keep it on my Wattpad account.  
> 5\. Once all that is done, I'm currently signed up for two fic exchanges, I've got multiple oneshot ideas bouncing around in my brain, and I'm eagerly awaiting this series to be done so I can start my next chaptered fic that I've literally been planning for a few years now. So I'll still be posting things on here!  
> 6\. Follow me on Tumblr! il0vem0lly- the 0's are zeros!  
> Love you!!!!!


	35. Chapter 35

**Louis’ POV**

The nice thing was, I didn’t think about Ben once before I went onstage.

I didn’t really have a say in whether or not I went on, because we were playing it off like Harry had the flu and couldn’t go onstage so that the fans wouldn’t know what had actually happened. If I had gone with him to the hospital, I wouldn’t have been at the concert and the fans would have known that something more was going on. Besides, we weren’t out yet and it would be incredibly suspicious if we both missed a concert. From the way I was acting onstage, it was probably suspicious anyways.

I tried my hardest to convert my nervous energy into something positive but the other boys gave me worried looks more than a few times when they thought I was acting too wild.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Harry and I felt physically sick from the guilt. No matter how hard I washed my hands, there was a little blood under my nails that I couldn’t get out and every time I looked at them, I wanted to throw up. I wanted more than anything to get off of the stage so that I could get to the hospital. I frantically checked my phone any time that I could without it being blatantly obvious. I could only imagine him scared and sad in a hospital without me. I needed to get to him and it was upsetting to stay onstage.

When I got offstage after the encore, the first thing I did was take Zayn’s cigarettes. The second thing I did was call Harry. When he didn’t pick up, I asked every crew member that I passed by if they knew who had taken him to the hospital. Nobody did. It had all happened so fast and they had had to take him quickly because they weren’t sure how much blood that he had lost or why he was spitting it up. By the time Liam found me, I was panicking. He led me back to my dressing room, a hand on my back so that I wouldn't collapse. I felt like I would, anyways.

He had me sit down and waited until I was breathing fairly normally to calmly explain that Harry was going to be okay, that the doctor that had checked him out had thought it might have been a severe panic attack. I had already known that, but I didn't bother interrupting Liam to tell him so. Harry was alert and talking to everyone and the only thing that was wrong was that he was still shaky and kept asking about me. They wanted to keep him overnight at the very least and were going to have a psychiatrist evaluate him.

"Louis, can I ask what happened?" Liam asked gently when he was done.

I was standing up to change into post-concert clothes.

I sighed, eyeing the package of cigarettes on the sofa. I didn't smoke regularly, only when I was exceptionally stressed. Harry wasn't fond of it but we both agreed that it was better than drinking.

"Get dressed and we can go outside," Liam said, noticing, "You don't have to tell me anything. I just...it was pretty shocking to me, I guess. I never thought he'd do something like that again, you know? Shit, I'm sorry. I'm making you feel worse, aren't I?"

I nodded. I pulled on a pair of joggers and the first t-shirt I could see. It was massive, so I suspected it was Harry's.

I checked my phone again as Liam led me outside. He told me that there was a car waiting whenever we were ready.

My hands shook when I tried to light the cigarette. "We've been stressed lately. I've been really difficult to deal with and I know that I was being hard on him. I guess I forget sometimes that he's human too and that he can get frustrated," I said quietly after a few minutes, "So I was being mean and stupid like I usually am before a concert and I went too far."

I'd let Harry think that we weren't okay. I didn't know why. If anything in my life was okay, then it was my relationship with Harry. I remembered how hurt- how scared he'd looked when I had tried to walk away from him. I felt sick all over again.

Liam waited patiently and lit the cigarette for me when my hands shook so badly that I nearly dropped it on the ground.

"I was so dumb," I sighed, "I don't know why I took it out on him. I just didn't want to be around anybody at that moment and he was there and I knew that he'd leave me alone if I asked nicely, but I needed to be mad at somebody, so I called him a bunch of names and said some pretty terrible shit to him- Christ, Liam, I flat-out shamed him for cutting himself, I think. I don't know, maybe it was his eating disorder. I don't remember. But I was a complete dick and I made him feel terrible and then I all but said I'd rather be with Eleanor than him or something and I walked out."

He blinked at me through the smoke. I couldn't tell if he was disgusted with me or not.

"I don't know if he did it because of what I said about his self-harming or if he did it because he was scared of what our fight could have meant, but regardless, shit," I whispered shakily.

"Louis, you know every couple has fights, right?" Liam said.

"Not like that. You weren't there, Liam. It was- it was bad. Obviously it was; you saw what he did afterwards. That wasn't a normal fight. We were attacking each other, I think," I said miserably.

"I think you'll be okay. I do. You guys have never been a normal couple because neither of you were fit to be in a relationship when you started and I don't know if you even are now. But I believe that if anybody was meant to make it work, it's you two. You're going to fight. It's natural. You just have to learn how to fight without playing dirty, I suppose," he said.

We stood in silence for a little while, long enough for me to finish the cigarette. It left a bitter taste in my mouth that I knew Harry hated when we kissed. I wondered if I'd ever have to worry about kissing Harry again after what I'd said to him. I doubted he'd want to kiss me. I was a horrible person.

Liam got the car to come around for us and explained to me on the way to the hospital that Niall and Zayn had gone back to the hotel that we were supposed to be staying at to get Harry extra clothes and his phone charger and the likes. I debated about texting them and asking them to get my things as well. I didn't. I didn't know if Harry wanted to see me, much less have me stay with him. My stomach rolled when I thought about what his mum and sister would think. We were already on shaky grounds, especially Gemma and I. She still hadn't quite forgiven me for putting Harry in rehab in the first place.

Arriving at the hospital gave me an odd sense of déjà vous. I didn't want to think about the last time that I had been at the hospital for Harry, terrified for his life. I prayed that I wouldn't have to worry about his life again.

My skin started to crawl as Liam spoke to the woman at the front desk and led us to where a map of the hospital was so that we could find his room. A sense of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. I knew that he probably hated me. He would break up with me as soon as I walked into the room, I was convinced.

There was one of our security guards on duty outside of his room. He was new, so I wasn't entirely sure of his name and I resolved to learn it as soon as possible.

"He'll be happy to see you," he said to me as Liam and I walked up.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," I muttered.

"Do you want some time alone first, Louis?" Liam asked.

I inhaled shakily and nodded. I figured that I needed to get whatever was coming my way over with as soon as possible.

I stepped inside. Niall and Zayn had managed to beat us there, apparently. Niall stopped talking as soon as he saw me and Harry looked up. I figured he was looking at me, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the clean, white bandage around his wrist.

"We'll be outside, then," Niall said carefully, patting Harry's leg as he stood up.

"Alright," Harry said, his voice sounding hoarse.

Zayn squeezed my hip as they walked past.

They shut the door behind them and it became deadly quiet in the room. I walked over to the chair next to Harry's bed and sat down slowly. I couldn't meet his eyes.

"I love you," Harry rasped, "And I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything that I said. I didn't mean to do anything that I did, I really didn't. I love you a lot and I guess I was stressed out and upset just enough that I went a little crazy."

"Why are you apologizing?" I asked, looking up at him, "You have no reason to apologize. Look what I did! I landed you in the hospital again! Shit, I made you cut again and you haven't in so long and knowing that makes me want to die, honestly. I feel so sick, Harry, knowing that I did that to you and I'm so sorry, please believe me. I didn't mean any of it and I'm sorry for being such a shit boyfriend and I'm sorry for-"

"Louis, slow down," he said, his mouth twitching into something like a smile, "You didn't do this to me. I did this to me. It's called self-harm for a reason, baby."

'Baby' made my fingers twitch. It made me feel like we could be okay. I didn't dare hope.

"You can't say that I wasn't the reason why you did it. You can't, not without lying. I outright shamed you for it. I didn't mean that, you know that. I'm so sorry," I whispered, "Fuck. I'm such shit, aren't I?"

Hot tears prickled at the corners of my eyes.

"Come here," Harry murmured, holding out his bandaged arm.

I climbed into the bed with him. I needed to be close to him, desperately. His skin was warm against mine and I knew that he had to hate the smell of smoke that clung to my clothes, but he didn't complain at all. It made me feel even worse.

"Louis, I know we need to talk about things. Fighting is normal in relationships, but that kind of fighting isn't. That's not okay. What you said to me wasn't okay and what I said to you wasn't okay. We need to talk things over, that's all. I just really need you right now. I was scared, Louis. I don't even remember anything up until you came into the toilet with me, but I obviously know what I did. I don't know if they told you anything, but I tore up my skin a good bit, I guess. And they said it looks like I made myself throw up but I kept trying even after everything came up so I scratched up my throat a little. That's why I’m a bit hoarse right now. Oh, Louis. Lovely, don't cry," Harry said, his arms wrapped tightly around me.

I buried my face in his neck. I remembered him spitting blood on his shirt. So that was why.

"I was really, really scared. I was just caught in a vulnerable moment but I thought you genuinely were going back to Eleanor and I don't know why I thought that because I know that's irrational, but I was terrified and I guess my coping mechanism when I can't think about better alternatives is to hurt myself," he said quietly, "I'm embarrassed, actually. I thought I was okay for a really long time and it's just like, surprise! I'm actually not okay at all."

His tone was bitter.

"I love you," I said into his skin, "I love you so much and I hate myself for making you doubt that. I'll do anything to make it better, I swear."

Harry sighed.

"I love you too. I'm okay with fighting; I am, because I know it wouldn't be a stable relationship if we didn't fight from time to time. And I know that I overreacted and I was completely out of my mind and I swear that will never happen again because I don't know what I was thinking, but those kind of fights are the stuff that make relationships turn toxic. It's just as much my fault as yours. We can talk it out for days later, but right now, I just really need you here with me because I'm still scared," he said.

I clung to him like I couldn't breathe without him.

Maybe that was true.

***

The one thing that I had never learned was how to healthily cope with emotions.

Harry came home from the hospital two nights after being admitted with orders to call his therapist and a prescription for some kind of medicative lotion to help heal his new cuts more quickly.

I had spent every moment that I could at the hospital with him, despite Gemma trying to kick me out once she and Anne had arrived, but Harry begged me not to leave. He was incredibly vulnerable, something that became more obvious as time went on. He hadn't seemed quite so much whenever I had first gotten to the hospital, but he was. He got anxious when I left the room, Anne told me, and he didn't quite relax until I came back. He clung to my hand if we were sitting in chairs or walking down to the cafeteria to get food and to my body when I would lie down next to him at night. By some miracle, probably some sort of bribe, I was allowed to stay through the night with him.

By the time we got back to our house, I'd been taught to change his bandages adequately and what to look for if something got infected. He had a special mouthwash to gargle to help heal the part of his throat that he had damaged and I was to remind him to do it at least three times a day.

We spent the first day talking through movies and dissecting the fight we had had and what had been wrong about it.

"I can't take how stressed I am out on you anymore," I decided, "I don't know what I need, but I know I can't hurt you like that. It's not fair to you and it's not fair to the boys or the crew."

Harry agreed with me.

He said that he needed to be more patient with me and more secure in our relationship. I could only roll my eyes at him. He was one of the most patient people I had ever met and the only reason he had doubted our relationship had been because of me. He was perfect.

He was perfect in every way but one.

I desperately needed space.

It wasn't his fault. He needed me and he needed constant reassurance that we were okay. But I'd had to deal with handling my problems myself when he had been in rehab and my first instinct was to give myself space until I worked through whatever was bothering me by myself. I was under a lot of pressure. I was treating him like glass, which I knew he didn't really appreciate all that much and I had to hold myself together whenever I was around him, which was all the time.

I hadn't had time to deal with the shock and the guilt from his hurting himself again and that combined with the constant stress of worrying about Ben was weighing me down.

If he noticed anything out of the ordinary, Harry never said anything. But I never smoked when we were home and I was disappearing outside multiple times a day to do so. My hands shook every time I caught sight of the bandage on his wrist. There was a mounting pressure in my chest and I felt like every time I opened my mouth, it would come pouring out.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just ask him for some space because I knew that it would freak him out. He was already worried about our relationship, I decided, and he didn't need to worry about me anymore than he was.

So I didn't tell Harry. I was on my third cigarette of the night and Harry was at Felix’s. My throat ached and I wasn't sure if it was from the smoke or if it was from how hard I was trying not to cry. I didn't know what was wrong with me or why I couldn't just deal with it like I normally did. I didn't know what was bothering me, exactly.

There was nothing that Harry was doing wrong. I didn't mind him wanting to be close to me because I loved being close with him. He wasn't being clingy in a bad way. I had to take care of him; I knew that. I loved being able to take care of him more than anything.

There was just something about having no time to absorb the shock of seeing him so horrifyingly similar to when he had tried to kill himself. I'd had to immediately go onstage and then to the hospital to see him. I'd never been able to take time for myself to absorb it. I needed my own space to deal with it, I decided. It didn't make much sense. I figured that logically, I'd want to do nothing but be close to Harry after being scared so badly, and I did, but I wanted to be by myself first.

Stress weighed down on my shoulders and I decided to call Liam in the middle of my fourth cigarette. It was late, but I didn't doubt that he would pick up. I had a hunch that he might have been expecting it.

I would have rather spoken to him over the phone, but he came over anyways. I couldn’t just hang up if he said something that I didn’t want to hear and I figured that was why.

We sat outside and he let me smoke until he decided that I was ready to talk.

“You know this isn’t fair to him. He hates when you keep things to yourself,” Liam said.

“He hurt himself because he was afraid of me leaving him and he still is. I can’t just tell him that I need space. It’s not his fault but I know that he’d think that it is. He’ll take it the wrong way and I don’t want to upset him,” I sighed.

“Then you explain to him that it’s not his fault. I’m not saying you should go up to him, tell him you need space, and then leave with no explanation. That’s just stupid, Louis, and so is not telling him you’re leaving or why you’re going in the first place. That’ll hurt him more than telling him why,” he said.

“I don’t even really know why, Liam. How am I meant to explain that to him?” I asked.

“Would you rather try and explain it to him when he’s pissed off and upset? That’s what’s going to happen, Louis. Harry has a lot of patience and understanding when it comes to you, but I think this is pushing it a lot. What is he meant to think if he comes home or wakes up and you’ve just up and disappeared? For all he knows, you’re lying murdered in an alley somewhere or cooped up in a hotel with a love affair. You can’t just leave without warning or reason. That’s incredibly rude, actually, not to mention a complete dick move. He’s going to jump to conclusions and that’ll make your situation even worse,” Liam said, sounding annoyed.

I knew that I was being ridiculous, but I just couldn’t bring myself to sit Harry down and tell him to his face that I needed space. I didn’t need it just from him; I needed space from everyone. I was terrified of how he would react and I was being a coward.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, eyeing the package of cigarettes like it was their fault that I was in such a mess.

“Louis, I can’t let you do this, you know that, right? I’ll call him right now myself and tell him what’s going on, but I can’t let you leave without him knowing. I’m not letting you ruin your relationship with your own stupidity,” Liam said, and then a bit more gently, “I’ve never seen you happier than you’ve been with him. You were such a mess for a while and I didn’t know if I’d ever see you smile again. That was hard for me too, Louis, not just you. You’re one of my best friends and I just can’t sit here and watch you ruin what’s made you so happy.”

I nodded.

“I don’t know what to say to him though,” I muttered, a bit childishly.

“Just wait until he comes home. Sit him down and tell him that the stress is getting too much for you. He understands that Louis, he’s not an idiot. He remembers how going away helped you before and he’s not going to forbid you from going away again. Don’t let him think that it’s his fault for a second. Explain to him that the best way for you to really let go and clear your head is to be free of distractions and all people, not just him. Make sure that he knows that, Louis, because he’ll dwell on thinking it’s his fault and it won’t be good. It’s not hard. Harry loves you more than he loves anyone, I think, and he’ll understand if you just talk to him. But you have to actually talk to him,” he said.

“Alright. I’ll leave in the morning then,” I said.

“After you talk to him. No, look at me, Louis. You’ll only leave after you talk to him, swear to me,” Liam demanded.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll only leave after I talk to him.”

He nodded in approval.

He left soon after that and I set about packing. I knew that I wasn’t going to talk to Harry and I was upset that I’d lied to Liam’s face. I was being cowardly, but I couldn’t bring myself to even call Harry and tell him that I was leaving.

When Harry came home, I tried my hardest to act normal. I talked to him as we climbed into bed together and let him tangle himself around me even though we were both too warm. It was how we slept every night. I hoped that he didn’t feel how guilty I was when he kissed me goodnight.

I detatched myself a few hours into the night and held my breath as he stirred.

Part of me wanted him to wake up and demand to know what was going on and why I was leaving.

But he didn't.

I left a note for him on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. I didn't want him to worry about us, so I explained everything that I was thinking to the best of my ability, that I loved him more than anything, and that I wouldn't be gone more than a few days. I had a feeling that he wouldn't be happy, regardless.

Shutting the door to the house behind me was a flurry of mixed emotions. I felt like I could breathe, like my mind knew that I was going to give it time to decompress and deal with whatever it was going through. But at the same time, I felt ridiculously guilty. Harry was vulnerable already and I worried that I was only going to make him worse. I didn't know if it was better to put myself first, or him. I figured that if I put myself first, then in the long run it was actually putting him first. I couldn't be a good boyfriend if I couldn't figure myself out.

My stomach twisted as I sat in my car and called in a few favors.

I texted Liam as I was on the way to the airport. I begged him to call Harry in the morning and explain to him what was going on. Liam was furious with me, understandably, and called until I gave up rejecting them and shut my phone off.

Within the next hour, I was sat in a private plane on my way to the little beach cottage that I had stayed in before. The way I had thought was that, it had fixed me once before, so it could help me figure myself out a second time. I didn't know if that was necessarily true or not, but I was willing to test that theory. I didn't explain to security why I was going and they didn't ask. The guard flying with me gave me a look like he thought that maybe Harry and I had broken up and I was leaving to fix my broken heart. It wasn't true at all, of course, and part of me wanted to shout at him that Harry and I were still very much so in love and together. I didn't.

I didn't sleep on the plane even though it was a fairly long flight. I was too worried about Harry. I wondered every hour if he had woken up and seen the note I had left him. My phone was shut off and placed in the hands of the security guard. I didn't want to have it while I was at the cottage. I wanted to remove myself from civilization as much as possible, just like the first time. I hoped that Harry didn't try to call me and that he wouldn't get worried when he wouldn't be able to reach me. I hoped that when I came back to him, that he would forgive me for leaving without telling him, because I knew that he would be upset with me regardless of how well I had explained myself in the note.

I had started to miss him as soon as I had left our house. I didn't refer to it as my house anymore, because it wasn't. It was ours. And I missed it because it was ours. I missed our room mostly, and I missed him more than anything else combined. It was ridiculous, because it had barely been a few hours since I had left, but I missed him more than I probably should have. I wondered if I would be able to sleep in the cottage without him sleeping next to me. I always had trouble sleeping if we weren't in the same bed, sleeping together.

As the plane touched down, my stomach rolled unpleasantly. I knew that I was making a mistake but I had to try. I needed space.

I just hoped that the damage would be reparable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy early Thanksgiving! Here's the rest of the story!!!  
> tumblr: il0vem0lly


	36. Chapter 36

**Louis’ POV**

I missed Harry.

The cottage was wonderful and my head cleared much more quickly than I had expected it to. The stress melted off as I swam around in the ocean or lounged on the beach and it was much easier to get my thoughts in order. But the entire time, I didn’t stop missing Harry. That was my own fault, I knew that, but I thoroughly believed that going off by myself had been necessary. I was in a place of peace and clarity that I knew that I would never have in London.

I worried about him a lot. A good portion of it was worrying if he was upset with me for leaving, which I knew that he had to be, and how his cuts were healing, but a decent amount was just simple little things. I wondered if he was warm enough at night or if we had milk for his cereal or if he had remembered to buy more toothpaste.

Pathetically, I wasn’t sleeping as well as I normally did next to him. I’d gotten used to sharing a bed and sleeping alone felt bizarre. But compared to how I had been sleeping in London- which was to say, not much at all- just a few hours were heavenly. I felt well-rested and clear-headed. It was a nice change, not to worry about anything but putting on sunscreen.

I was there for five days when I decided to go back home. I called to arrange a car and a ticket back to London. Truthfully, I was terrified. I knew that Harry wasn’t happy with me and I hadn’t spoken to him since the night before I had left. I just didn’t know how mad at me he was.

I got my phone back from security for the flight home. I turned it on, bracing myself.

Like I had expected, there was a barrage of messages and missed calls from Harry. They ranged from worried to sad to angry.

_‘ **Louis, where are you? I didn’t know you were going out today. Text me! Love you! xx’**_

And then a few texts later-

_‘ **Saw your note…what??’**_

**_‘Liam just texted me and told me. What the fuck why wouldn’t you say anything to me???’_ **

He got rapidly more and more frustrated.

**_‘Why are you ignoring me?’_ **

**_‘Louis, please answer your phone!’_ **

**_‘I’m worried, please just text me back at least!’_ **

_**‘I can’t believe you’re doing this right now what the fuck Louis’** _

_**‘I’m so mad at you.’** _

_**‘You’re in so much shit I can’t believe you. Call me!’** _

And then, eventually-

_**‘Whatever. I hope this is worth it.’** _

I felt sick as I listened to his voicemails. He was upset and angry, that much was obvious. Apparently he’d tried calling my family too, because calls and texts from my mum and Lottie were sprinkled in among his.

It had been worth it to me, I thought. I knew that I hadn’t gone about it the right way because I was a complete coward, but the act of getting away to be by myself had been worth it. I felt good, other than the tension creeping along the back of my neck as I worried about my relationship. I didn’t think he was mad enough to break up with me, but I had no way of knowing.

The plane ride went quickly, despite actually being a fairly long one. I dreaded landing and I flinched when we touched down. The drive from the airport to my house was even quicker.

I sat in my car for a good few minutes. Harry had to have heard me pull into our driveway, but he made no effort to come out after a few minutes. I figured he was either giving me my space or he was still incredibly angry- probably both. Even when Harry was mad, he still cared about other peoples’ feelings. I felt dizzy with dread as I got out of my car and shuffled to the door like a man with a death sentence. It was hard to fit my key in the lock when my hands were shaking as badly as they were and I almost dropped my keys on the floor when I stepped inside.

I didn’t hear anything as I took my shoes off, but I knew that Harry was home. His car was in our garage and I could see his keys lying haphazardly on a front table. It was deathly silent in our house and I felt like I was in a horror movie until I heard a faint bang coming from our kitchen. I sighed shakily and made my way through the house.

I hovered in the doorway of the kitchen. Harry had his back to me and was reaching up into a cabinet for a tea bag. He knew that I was watching him.

“Welcome home, asshole. Do you want a cuppa?’ he asked, his tone biting.

My stomach churned.

“Harry, I-“

“No,” Harry snarled, turning around, “Don’t you fucking dare apologize because it’s absolutely useless.”

His knuckles were white as he clenched the mug in his hands. His jaw was clenched and his expression was dark and furious. I risked a glance at his wrists. He had taken the bandage off and I could see the healing scabs from across the kitchen. It made me feel nauseous.

“You knew how I was feeling, Louis. How I’m still feeling, actually. Like I can’t be certain of bloody anything in our relationship right now because I’m not sure if you’ll stick around for tomorrow. And you fucking left anyways without warning me and leaving me some shitty note. You didn’t even call me, Louis. You didn’t say a single fucking thing to me and you just left!” he barked, “You could have told me you were stressed out instead of pretending everything was okay and then disappearing for almost a week! You could have, I don’t know, maybe actually communicated with me for once? You know, that thing we were literally talking about improving in our relationship the same day you left? I would have understood Louis, you know that, right? I’m not as self-centered as you might think; I understand if you need space because I need it sometimes too! You’re human! But you just decided to leave! Did you even care about how I felt? I was worried sick, Louis! I didn’t know where you were until Liam called me! And then you wouldn’t answer any of my calls or texts, what the fuck was that about?”

“I didn’t have my phone,” I said quietly, before he could continue.

It seemed like the most logical thing to say and I had no idea why.

Harry’s face was turning purple.

“You’re such a fucking coward,” he growled.

“No! It wasn’t so I could ignore you, I swear!” I protested, “I’ll tell you everything. I went back to the beach I went to before when I needed to be alone and the whole purpose of going was to isolate myself to the point where I have to figure things out in my head because I have no other choice. I couldn’t have had my phone with me. It would have been a distraction.”

He stared at me and then snorted, shaking his head.

“I think, now I need some space,” he muttered before turning abruptly and stalking past me out of the kitchen.

“What?” I asked the empty kitchen.

I scrambled after him and watched him shove a pair of boots on and grab his keys. He was the angriest that I had ever seen him. He was scaring me.

“Where are you going?” I asked tentatively.

Harry looked up, his eyes narrowed.

“Well it’s not like you ever told me,” he spat, “Why should I tell you?”

He threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him.

***

I did laundry first. I needed something to take my mind off of how angry Harry had been and how afraid I was, so I washed all of my clothes from the beach. I knew that Harry stress-cleaned and had probably washed all of the clothes that had been strewn about the floor when I left, so I emptied a random drawer of t-shirts and threw them into the wash as well.

I restlessly rearranged my closet, which had already been meticulously cleaned by Harry, and remade the bed. I paced up and down the hallways and waited until I could transfer the wash to the dryer. I turned the television on just for something to do but walked out of the room immediately afterwards.

My hand twitched towards my phone multiple times but I couldn’t bring myself to call Harry and be rejected. Any trace of peace that I had found on the beach had vanished. It wasn’t the same all-consuming stress that I had left to get rid of, but I didn’t feel good either.

I finally broke and called Harry when it got to be past midnight and he hadn’t returned. He didn’t answer, so I called again. By the tenth call, I was crying from frustration and he never answered. I was scared that he was mad enough to end our relationship and I hated myself for causing it. I had known in making the decision not to tell him I was leaving that it would make him angry, but I had taken his seemingly endless patience for granted. I had been stupid.

I entertained the thought that if I got drunk, he would come back. I didn’t know if he had any alcohol in the house- I highly doubted it- but I was legal and it wouldn’t have been too difficult to go out and buy some for myself. I wasn’t supervised.

The thought of how disappointed he would have been stopped me

. I made myself tea that I knew I wouldn’t drink instead.

I didn’t sleep the entire night.

My insomnia wasn’t anything new to me, but it had been slowly getting better and I wasn’t quite used to not sleeping at all. I had forgotten how torturously slow nights were when I couldn’t sleep. Normally when I couldn’t sleep, I was at least comforted by Harry being next to me.

That night, I didn’t even know where he was.

It was early in the morning when he finally came back- around six. I heard his car and then the sound of a door opening downstairs. Part of me wanted to run to him and demand an explanation and part of me wanted to stay hidden under the bed sheets and avoid him.

I stayed in our room.

Harry wandered around downstairs for a while, probably avoiding me as much as I was him, but as always, he was the bigger person. The sound of his feet on the steps as he made his way up was ominous. Childishly, I ducked under the blankets and pretended to be asleep whenever he came in. I could hear him pause in the doorway.

“Louis, don’t even bother pretending. I know you’re awake,” he sighed.

I didn’t move. He came and sat down on the edge of the bed next to me.

“I was at Felix’s, so you know. I figured, you told me when you came back, so I should at least tell you,” he said, “Please, Louis. I know you’re awake. Don’t be such a child.”

I rolled over on my back and looked at him. He looked as tired as I felt.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Harry shook his head, his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile or cry or both.

“You’re such an asshole,” he muttered, “Seriously.” “I know,” I said, sitting up a bit more. “And that’s the worst part, isn’t it? You knew when you left that I was going to be pissed off and you did it anyways. Who’s to say you won’t do it again next time you get upset or stressed? I can’t do that, Louis, I seriously can’t. And you can’t promise me that there won’t be a next time because neither of us know if there will or won’t be for sure. We have no way of knowing that,” he said.

“I know,” I said again, “I was stupid and I left knowing that I was being stupid. I take you for granted all the time, Harry, and I don’t think I’ve quite realized that until now.”

“Can you just let me talk for a minute? I just need to get my thoughts out there, alright?” Harry said, his voice a little harder than it had been.

I nodded, my mouth going dry. I hated how angry and upset he sounded.

“I’ll admit that I overreacted with the whole cutting thing. I don’t know what happened or why I panicked like that, but it happened and we can’t change that. I was vulnerable after that, obviously, and you were great about it- fantastic, even. I didn’t even know how miserable I was making you and that makes me feel like shit, now that I know,” he said.

“Harry, you weren’t-”

“Let me fucking talk, alright? Christ, Louis,” he snapped, “I know you were miserable because you left! I needed your attention and I was being clingy when you wanted to be alone. You can call that whatever you want but at the end of the day, something that I was doing was making you unhappy. And I’m not stupid; I know that it wasn’t just me. I know that you were tired and the shows were stressing you out. It was a lot of things put together, but I also know that I was part of the problem, so just man up and admit it, alright? You can’t hurt me more than you already have.”

I wanted to touch him, whether it was to comfort him or myself, but I didn’t know if he’d be okay with that or not. I didn’t know where his speech was going and if I was going to be single by the end of it. He paused and ran a hand through his hair.

“I understand how you felt when I went to rehab. You didn’t know I was in love with you or how bad things really were. And then I just disappeared and the only explanation you got was from the letter I left you and from our friends. It’s strangely similar, if you think about it. I didn’t know how upset you were until you left and all I got was a shitty letter and a phone call from Liam. I didn’t contact you when I left and you didn’t contact me when you left. The only difference is I fucking trusted you a whole lot more when you left than you probably trusted me. I trusted that you’d stay with me and you wouldn’t just walk away whenever you felt like it. I trusted that you loved me. That really hurts, Louis, believe it or not. And I’m so angry- I’ve been angry this whole week. I couldn’t understand why you would just leave without telling me. I still don’t understand, actually. But it hurt at first that you completely disregarded my feelings and then I got pissed off that apparently I don’t mean very much to you for you to be able to leave like that. I love you a lot, Louis, but this is the type of shit people break up over, you know that, right? I just- shit, Louis, I don’t know what I’m meant to do,” Harry said, his hands twisting in the tangled sheets at the foot of the bed.

“I know you’re mad and I understand. If you want to break up, then I understand that too. I don’t want that at all, but I’d probably break up with myself now, honestly. I love you, Harry, and I’m sorry that I’ve made you doubt that. I couldn’t tell you why I didn’t just tell you where I was going or why, and I knew it was a mistake even as I was doing it. It probably won’t help, but you were pretty much the only thing I thought about the entire time I was gone,” I said softly.

I reached out for his hand and he didn’t immediately move away. He didn’t exactly squeeze my hand back or move at all, really, but it still made a little flicker of hope ignite in my chest.

“Felix thinks I should break up with you. Maybe he’s right,” he said, his voice low.

My stomach flipped. I could understand why he would. I’d caused him a lot of distress in our relationship and I tried to be a good boyfriend, but I knew that I wasn’t always successful. Still, the fact that Felix had told him to breakup with me left a bitter taste in my mouth. I’d grown used to the fact that Harry and Felix were best friends, but I would never be a big fan of Felix.

I didn’t say anything, though. I figured insulting his best friend wouldn’t win me any favors.

“But I don’t think I can do that, you know?” Harry said, shrugging, “And I told him that. I love you so much, Louis, and I might be hurt right now but if I broke up with you, I’d only hurt worse. I’m pissed, but I know you didn’t mean to hurt me when you left. You were thinking of yourself and I can respect that. There’s times where you do need to put yourself first. You went about it in a shitty and cowardly way, but I understand why you felt like you needed to leave. I’m still mad, don’t think I’m not, but I understand.”

“I love you,” I murmured, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb, “And I hate that I upset you. I’d go back and redo it if I could. I wouldn’t blame you if you decide you want to break up with me, because I know there are better people out there for you than I am, so.”

Harry twisted around abruptly, looking angrier than he had the entire time he’d been speaking. “What the fuck, Louis?” he snarled, “Why would you say that? There’s nobody out there that’s better for me than you, and the fact that you even think that-”

He cut himself off, his eyes blazing.

“I’m just saying,” I muttered, “There are people who would never upset you like I have. I’m not saying there’s somebody out there who could love you more than I do, because I doubt that, but there’s somebody out there who would treat you better. Someone who would never hurt you or take you for granted like I do.”

Harry shook his head furiously.

“Louis, I don’t want somebody who is perfect. I don’t want somebody who will cater to my every whim and always be wonderfully happy and who I’ll never have petty arguments with and I don’t want somebody who isn’t you. You’re what’s perfect for me, I swear. Perfect is boring. If what’s perfect me involves arguing sometimes and getting upset with each other and having to compromise and talk things out, I love that about you too. I love everything and I don’t want anything different. Maybe I’d appreciate it if you would actually talk to me sometimes instead of running away like you did, but that’s a part of who you are and no matter how angry I am with you, that doesn’t mean I want somebody who is ‘better’, because there is nobody better,” he said, “I’m not breaking up with you.”

“You’re not?” I asked.

Harry shook his head and turned his body to face me. He looked more relaxed and gentle than he had since I had come home and I had to reach out to smooth the little furrow between his eyebrows.

“I couldn’t. Love involves making mistakes sometimes and I get that. I’ve not quite forgiven you yet, but I will in time. Love means working things out and persevering. Louis, I came into this relationship knowing that we’d have hard times and that there would be bad times like these. You can’t just take two people who have been severely mentally ill and expect them to have a 100% perfect relationship, no matter how much they love each other. Even if we were both healthy, that’s not realistic. We’ve got to be willing to work with each other on this. I’m willing,” he said.

“I am too,” I said, squeezing his hand again, “I do love you quite a lot. I know you probably doubted that this past week. I’m a bit mad for you, to be honest. I’m probably going to have a harder time forgiving myself than you will.”

Harry smiled and squeezed my hand back. It was a small smile, but it counted all in the same.

“I know. How are you feeling? Did getting away help at all?” he asked.

I shook my head in disbelief. He was too perfect. He’d admitted to being furious with me, and he still asked if I was okay.

“Yeah,” I said, and then added, “I missed you, though. I’ll take you there one day, maybe.”

“It’s your place, Lou. Don’t worry about sharing it,” he said. “How are you? You removed the bandages,” I said, running my fingers over his barely-healed cuts.

“I was upset, but I’m alright now. I wasn’t upset enough to try anything again. Honestly, Louis, I really don’t know why I did that in the first place. I missed you while you were gone even while I was pissed off. I feel a little better having you back now.” Harry said, “I don’t know if you’ve looked online, but a few days ago, somebody leaked a picture of the ambulance at the venue. Management tried to put a few insiders in saying that it was because a fan passed out during the concert, but a lot of fans are putting two and two together. I’ve tried to be pretty active on Twitter and such, but it’s kind of a neither confirm nor deny kind of thing right now. I’m sure they’ll figure it out themselves as soon as they see new cuts.”

I sighed. I’d been worried about that kind of thing happening.

“It’s not a huge deal. Honestly, if I can, I want to try to put a positive message out there about it. Like, ‘it’s okay to relapse because hey, it even happens to international popstars’ type of thing,” he continued, “I think I want to get out there more about mental illnesses. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I don’t know if I just want to support charities or make one of my own or what, but I really want to help other people.”

“I love you,” was all I could get out.

Harry was the most beautiful, most genuine, perfect person that I had ever met and I could hardly believe that he had told me that I was the one who was perfect for him only a few minutes prior. Somehow we’d gone from him telling me how mad he was to him telling me about how he wanted to help other people dealing with mental illnesses. I was dizzy with how much I loved him.

When Harry grinned and leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t even think about hesitating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: il0vem0lly


	37. Chapter 37

** Harry’s POV  **

It was pathetic, how quickly I forgave Louis for hurting me so badly. I supposed that was what happened when somebody was in love as much as I was. We had only had two days left of the break before we had to go back on tour and we spent it together, watching bad television and eating take away. It was fantastic.

I knew that Louis felt horrible about what he had done and to me that was punishment enough. I didn’t like him feeling badly about anything, but I knew that I couldn’t just let him off the hook immediately.

Going back on tour made the both of us nervous. We were both worried about how he would be able to handle the pressure again. We were starting the American leg of our tour and I wondered how he would feel about being so far from London. I didn’t know if he would have any problems with home sickness. He never had before, but I didn’t know if anything had changed.

He held my hand as we walked through the venue, trying to find our dressing rooms. It was nice. He hadn’t held my hand at all for the last few shows of our European leg and I had missed the casual intimacy of it. I didn’t care that we didn’t have any sexual intimacy. To me, that would only be a bonus to what our relationship already was and I was willing to go without it for my entire life if he was never ready. I was content with holding hands and cuddling and that was all I really needed to be happy. I knew that he didn’t feel quite the same way about it and that it was useless to convince him otherwise, which always bothered me. I hated that he felt inadequate in our relationship.

I waited for him as he got his hair done and Liam walked in.

“Alright, Harry?” he asked, his tone light, but his mouth twitched into a frown when he looked over at Louis.

“Great, thanks,” I replied, watching as Louis looked away from Liam, looking guilty.

Liam nodded, but I knew that he was curious. When he had called to tell me where Louis had disappeared to, he had sounded as angry as I had felt. I understood that he couldn’t have controlled Louis’ decision- nobody could ever control Louis, not really- and I had told him as much. I knew that he didn’t agree with it and hadn’t supported it and that had been enough for me. But I still felt protective over Louis and I didn’t like the way that Liam was glaring at him.

“You want a tea or something, love?” I asked after Louis cleared his throat.

I knew that he wasn’t sick, just uncomfortable, but I saw the way Liam raised his eyebrows at ‘love’. He clearly had not expected us to be okay again so quickly.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Louis mumbled, playing with his fingers.

He looked ashamed under Liam’s stare and I didn’t like it. I wanted Louis to feel bad about what he had done because it wasn’t okay with me, but I didn’t want him to feel bad because of what Liam thought. It was our relationship, not his.

“We’re fine, Liam,” I said, trying not to sound too irritated.

Lou looked up and glanced between the three of us, confused. She had no idea of what had happened and I wanted to keep it that way. I didn’t want our problems being scrutinized by anybody but us. I knew that she wouldn’t judge us, but I still wanted to keep it private.

“Alright,” Liam said, shrugging, and that was that.

After both Louis’ and my hair was done, we went back to our dressing room. He didn’t much feel like messing about like he normally did and I understood that.

“You okay?” I asked when he returned to the room after getting a cup of tea.

He shrugged. “Liam’s mad,” he said quietly, curling up next to me on the couch that we had dragged in from another room.

I made a mental note to put it back when we got the chance.

“He told me that you swore you’d at least call me before you left. He’s kind of got the right to be mad,” I said, “It’s weird, though. I don’t like that he’s mad at you even though he has a perfectly valid reason to be. It’s like only I get to be mad at you and anyone else that is doesn’t get that right.”

Louis shrugged again.

“I can talk to him, if you want,” I said, “Let him know that you and I are okay and he doesn’t need to worry about it.”

“I should probably talk to him myself. He already thinks I’m a coward. Don’t want to reinforce that,” he sighed, absently swirling his tea around the cup.

“You don’t have to talk to him right now, then. Don’t upset yourself about it, Lou. He’ll understand. It’s just Liam,” I said gently.

“I did exactly what he said not to do and now he has the right to be mad. I don’t blame him,” Louis said.

“Baby, look at me,” I said, probably a little more forcefully than I should have, “Louis, this is our relationship. Not his. This shouldn’t even concern him. If I say there is no need for him to be mad, then there isn’t. He doesn’t need to get involved.”

Louis frowned and looked back down at his hands. I wasn’t sure what I could tell him that would make him feel better and less guilty. I knew that he should have at least a little guilty but I hated seeing him beat himself up so much.

“I love you,” I said, grabbing his hands so he would stop fussing with them and look at me instead.

He gave me a tiny smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“I love you too,” he said quietly, “And I know you told me to stop saying so, but I’m sorry. More than you can know.”

I rolled my eyes and his mouth twitched in something like amusement. I had appreciated his apologies at first, but he had been doing it so much that I was getting tired of it. It seemed like Louis couldn’t stop though, like he had to prove to me every hour that he was still sorry and felt horrible.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, looking down at his fingers drawing patterns on the back of my hand.

I hated that he felt like he had to ask. I didn’t bother responding before leaning in to kiss him. His mouth tasted like bitter tea and faintly of stale cigarettes. I wasn’t much of a fan of him smoking but I preferred it to him drinking by a lot. I knew that he was trying to stop doing it around me, so I figured he had snuck out with Zayn at some point- probably when I had been getting my hair done.

Louis sighed like it was a relief to be able to kiss me. I understood the feeling. Every time that I kissed him, it felt like coming home after a long day.

His fingers were cold as he brought a hand up to curl around the back of my neck. I’d learned pretty quickly how to tell when Louis wanted to be kissed and when he wanted to kiss me. It sounded bizarre, but there was a difference. There were sleepy mornings when Louis would let me kiss him and take what I wanted from him until we were both dizzy with it. But there were times when Louis liked to take control which usually featured a lot of him pulling my hair to get me to do what he wanted. Of course there were times when neither of us was particularly in charge over the other. Regardless of how we kissed, I could have spent hours- days, even- doing it.

“I should talk to Liam,” he murmured eventually, resting his forehead against mine.

I had to cross my eyes to look at him, which made him smile a little.

“Just a few more minutes,” I replied, tightening my fingers on his lower back.

“Baby, you and I both know that ‘a few more minutes’ might be the entire show,” Louis snorted, but he leaned back in anyways.

He ended up not needing to go find Liam. Whether it was one minute or several later, the door to our room opened. Louis looked up and I turned around. Liam stood awkwardly in the doorway. I wasn’t sure if it was because he had clearly interrupted something or if he felt weird around Louis.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked, looking at Louis.

Louis’ mouth twitched and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to say no.

“Of course,” he said quietly, standing up and squeezing my hand, “I’ll be back in a mo’, love.”

I smiled at him as he walked out of the room with Liam. I hoped that they could fix the uncomfortable tension between them. Their dynamic was a large part of our performances and I knew the fans would notice if it wasn’t there.

I went to visit with the crew and help out with what I could while I waited for Louis. We as the performers didn’t often spend much time with our crew, but I liked to sometimes just to show them that we did appreciate everything that they did for us.

By the time Louis and Liam came back, it was time for our sound check. Louis seemed more relaxed and they were both smiling, so I took it as a good sign.

“Miss me?” Louis asked, coming to stand next to me. He smelled like smoke.

“Like crazy,” I said, watching his face light up, “Everything alright?”

He nodded, “Yeah. He still thinks I’m an arse, but he’s not really mad anymore, I guess. We talked things out.” “

That’s good,” I said as Niall started messing with his guitar, “You gonna be okay for the show tonight?”

Louis’ face fell and I felt guilty that I had caused it. I needed to know, though.

“I dunno,” he muttered, “I wasn’t really thinking about it all that much, actually. Guess I was more worried about the whole Liam thing.”

“If it’s not the only thing you were thinking about, that’s good then, right?” I asked.

Louis shrugged, looking down. We ran through a few of our songs and Louis was significantly quieter than he had been. I felt bad for bringing it up when he apparently hadn’t been thinking very much about it. It was interesting to watch how much more comfortable he seemed onstage when there was an empty arena than when it was full of our fans- and potentially Ben.

He followed me back to our dressing room afterwards, not interested in staying and hanging out with everyone else. He slumped back down onto the sofa and sighed.

“I feel like I’m being stupid and irrational,” he said before I could even sit down next to him, “I’m panicked over nothing. He might not even know who I am and if he does, why should he be bothered to leave the bloody continent and stalk me on our tour? That’s fucking expensive, for starters.”

“Louis, it’s never irrational to be worried about something like this. You know it’s not. It’s your right to be scared and it’s not irrational. If he’s fucked up enough to hurt somebody as precious as you, then he’s fucked up enough to stalk you afterwards. Do I think he is? No, but you shouldn’t say you’re being irrational, love,” I said.

I felt like we were reciting a script. We had nearly the exact same conversation before every show.

I didn’t know if dismissing the thought that he was being irrational would make him more or less upset. I didn’t want to discredit his fears but at the same time, I didn’t want to say that I definitely thought Ben was stalking him and make him more paranoid. There was a reason he had a professional therapist to talk to.

Louis was chewing on his lip and I reached forward and gently pulled it away from his teeth. He rolled his eyes at me. The fact that he was relaxed enough to joke around at least a little bit with me was comforting. His leaving for a week did seem to be helping him.

“Do you feel any better than you have before?” I asked, genuinely interested.

“I think it probably helps that we’re not on the same continent. It’s a little harder to fly after somebody than to just get in a car and drive. I think maybe my head’s a little clearer now and it’s easier to separate the irrational thoughts from the rational ones. Like I would be scared to be in the dressing room by myself because I felt like he’d find me or something. I completely forgot that we have security and that if I shouted, they’d come running to help me. I don’t know, baby, I’m still scared and I’m nervous and panicky but maybe not so much? I guess I’ll see as the time comes nearer,” he said.

“Even if it’s a little better, that’s good,” I said.

Louis nodded, but he looked unsure.

“I know ‘these things take time’ and everything, I’m just sick of this. I love performing, you know I do, and I hate that I can hardly enjoy it anymore. I’m scared every time somebody yells my name in the streets- even if it’s a fucking girl- because I’m terrified that I’ll turn around and it’ll be him. During our meet and greets, every time that door opens, I get scared because I’m afraid he’ll come walking in. I hate being scared to go around a corner in case he jumps out at me. I’m fucking SICK of being scared!” he blurted, his cheeks flushing red.

My stomach dropped. I hated nothing more than Louis being upset with himself.

“I don’t know how to make it stop. I want it to stop,” he said quietly, “And you know what the worst part is? I can’t even blame him. I asked him for it. I can’t even say that I didn’t consent because I did. Not explicitly- it’s hard to say yes when you’ve got a stranger fucking your throat- but I never said no either, not until the end. He never knew that I didn’t want it. Maybe some people will call it rape, but he was under the impression that I wanted it the entire time. Not in a douche-y way either, where he’ll say that I wanted it but I was actually telling him no from the beginning, but I asked him to do it, you know? I can’t even blame him and that’s the worst part. He’s this fucking _monster_ in my head but I can’t validate that. I can’t.”

I blinked at him. As much as we talked about how stressed and scared Louis was, we very rarely actually talked about what had happened. It only ever upset him.

“And I fucking hate myself. I’m not labeling myself now because I can’t be arsed to- I know the only person I’ll need to be attracted to is you, anyways, but at that time, I was straight. I had a girlfriend. And the reason I fucked him was because I wanted to understand why you let me fuck _you_. I wasn’t sane; I know that, but I was so obsessive over you that I cheated on my bloody girlfriend with a stranger who made me want to die. It makes me so sick to think about that. Eleanor and I didn’t have a good relationship by then- I had already fucked that up, but it was the principle of the matter, anyways. I cheated because I couldn’t stop trying to understand you,” Louis continued, the words sounding like they were being ripped out of his chest, “How could you have let me do that to you? How could that feel good?”

“Baby, it’s a little different when you’re in love with the person and you already know you’re attracted to boys. You were drunk, but you definitely still knew what you were doing,” I said.

Louis shook his head, his face scrunched up with disgust.

“That doesn’t matter, anyways. I can’t believe I did that to you. I can’t believe I did anything to you. I made you cut and I made you try to kill yourself and you had a fucking eating disorder all because of me and I know you’re happy now, but I can’t forgive myself, Harry. I can’t,” he said, shaky hands adjusting his hair just to give them something to do.

I wasn’t really sure how he had gone from being upset with what had happened to him with Ben to being upset with what had happened to me. I let it go, though. I figured it was good for him to get everything out of his system.

“And I can’t be a normal person anymore. I can never drink a beer with the lads again and I can’t drink wine at home. I can’t drink champagne on New Years. I can’t get shit-faced just because I want to have a good time. I have to order fucking water when I go out. It’s humiliating, how weak I am, that I can’t have a beer without having to worry about whether or not I’ll be able to stop again,” Louis said.

“Louis, you’re not weak,” I said, finally interrupting him, “Do you hear yourself? You’re not weak. You’re the furthest thing from weak. Everything that you just talked about going through? You survived that, Louis. You’re the fucking strongest person I’ve ever met and I can’t just sit here and listen to you say that you’re weak because you’re not.”

Louis blinked at me and then his face crumpled and he started to cry. I was beyond confused. He had been fine all day and he had admitted that he wasn’t even as stressed over Ben as he usually was. I had thought he was happier but as I pulled him over to sit on my lap, he most decidedly was not happy.

Normally when Louis cried, it was heartbreaking. He would try as hard as he could not to and then when he gave up, it was silent and frustrated. But as he cried against my neck, it was loud and hard, like it was a release. It was almost a relief for me.

Niall poked his head in to check up on us. He looked shocked when he saw what was going on, but he had left immediately before Louis could notice him.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said thickly, his fingers curling in my hair, “I don’t know what this is all about.”

“It’s alright, love,” I murmured, kissing the top of his head, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I love you,” he sighed, “I really don’t know what that was. I couldn’t shut up all of a sudden and then I couldn’t stop crying.”

“Whatever you need,” I said.

It seemed like having a cry really did help him. He didn’t start getting very nervous until about we went to get our in-ears. Even then, it wasn’t bad. His hands shook and he got pale and sweaty, but it was one of the more mild times that I could remember. He even seemed a little more at ease on stage and he definitely interacted more with the fans, something he normally avoided in fear of accidentally interacting with Ben.

Later in our hotel room, he let me shower with him and he kissed me under the water until I was dizzy with it.

Afterwards, we ordered room service and fell asleep before they could bring it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: il0vem0lly


	38. Chapter 38

**Louis’ POV**

I woke up with Harry’s arm around my waist and his mouth on the side of my neck. His hair was tickling my face and it was a little too hot under the covers with him, but I couldn’t bring myself to move away. I was fairly sure he was drooling on my shoulder.

I busied myself by messing around on my phone and trying not to make too much movement. Harry had been tired after the show the night before and I wanted to let him get his sleep. I had been absolutely exhausted, but sometimes it was still hard for me to sleep for as long as him. Old habits died hard.

I tried not to think too much about how I had absolutely lost it before the show. I had no idea where any of it had come from, just that one moment I was perfectly fine and the next I was yelling about nothing and everything at the same time. Harry had already known that I was still bothered by a lot of things, but I knew that he had still been surprised to hear it all coming out at the same time. I had started thinking too much about Ben and then somehow it had become thinking too much about Harry and then everything else.

Sometimes I thought that I was finally relatively okay and then something would happen to make me realize that I really wasn’t at all. It wasn’t like I was anywhere near as bad as I had been, but a lot of the time I found myself expecting to be magically all better and never have to worry about my mental health ever again.

I gave up on playing with my phone and lay back down next to Harry. Time never passed slowly when we were together, regardless of how conscious we were.

It was so quiet in the room and it gave me an opportunity to really think about things. I was so happy with Harry- that much was obvious. I couldn’t have asked for anybody better for me. I didn’t doubt that he was happy with me. I did wonder about how confident he was with our relationship. In the beginning, he had been seriously apprehensive, and he wasn’t at fault for that. But we’d been dating for months and I couldn’t help but wonder if he still felt like that. Obviously I wasn’t helping at all, leaving him the way I had. I felt like he was still too concentrated on helping me that he was in danger of forgetting about himself. I was still worried that his relapse into cutting and purging would resurface. He was sure that it wouldn’t, but I was a little more hesitant. I knew as well as anybody that people didn’t just magically heal overnight. It was a lengthy process.

He hadn’t hid the cuts at the show the night before, and I had been perusing our social media to see if anybody had noticed. Of course our fans had. There were HD pictures zoomed in on his wrist and a lot of our fans were really upset about them. I was too. Seeing them made me feel sick.

Generally, most of our fans were worried about it. There were entirely too many to be accidental, and they were all much too big. A few pointed out that Harry had seemed perfectly happy on stage, so there probably wasn’t any big issues like there had been when he had taken to cutting in the past, but those fans were few and far between.

Harry was going to have to address them in an interview and I didn’t think he would mind. I knew that he had gotten tired of talking about it when he had first come back from rehab, but he had been seriously thinking about making a difference. I knew that he would find some way to put a positive spin on it.

“G’morning, love,” Harry murmured to my shoulder, interrupting my train of thought.

“Good morning,” I said.

He squinted at me, still not completely awake. I had to bite back a laugh at the way his hair was sticking up in every direction. I found Harry incredibly sexy a good portion of the time, but when he first woke up in the morning, he was absolutely adorable.

I kissed him, grinning helplessly. It was quick; I was wary of our morning breath.

“How long’ve you been up?” he asked, blinking a few times to wake himself up.

“Only an hour or two. Not too long,” I said, pressing my hand against his chest, “Didn’t want to wake you up, though. You were tired last night.”

He hummed, taking my hand off of his chest to hold it. For a while, we didn’t say anything. It was a comfortable silence.

“What time do we have to be ready?” I asked eventually, mostly just to keep him awake.

“Hour and a half or so,” he said, “We should get up soon. Shower and get food.”

“We should. But will we?” I asked.

He smiled at me. The way his face lit up, as cheesy as it sounded, took my breath away. I felt stupid around him most of the time, like I couldn’t function if he so much as looked in my direction.

“I don’t want to be gross all day. And I know you’ve got to be hungry. Unless you ate while I was still sleeping?” he said, sitting up and rubbing at his face.

He hadn’t slept with a shirt on and I had to appreciate the view that that gave me.

We showered separately, mostly to conserve time. Even though showering together never turned sexual, we had a tendency to lose track of time. He ordered our breakfast while I showered and I scrolled through Twitter again as I waited for him afterwards.

“Baby, you should say something on Twitter. The fans are worried about you,” I said when he came out of the bathroom.

“Forgot about that,” he said, digging through a suitcase, “What’re they saying?”

“What you would expect them to. They aren’t stupid; they know that those aren’t any kind of accident. They’re afraid you might be going downhill again, I think, seeing as last time they saw any sort of cuts on you, it wasn’t too long before they were told that you tried to kill yourself,” I said.

He tossed the towel on his waist in the general direction of the bathroom, intending to pick it up later, and winked at me.

I rolled my eyes at him.

“You’re not that impressive,” I teased, flinching when he threw a sock at me, “But seriously.”

“I know. Remind me next time we talk to management that I want to ask about what I can do with this. Like in the long run, you know? I don’t want to just tweet something like ‘Hey guys, I’m okay, don’t worry’ and leave it at that. I want them to understand that hey, it’s okay to have a relapse, whether it’s after two months or two days. We all start somewhere,” he said, his eyes shining as he pulled a shirt on over his head.

“Yeah, we do,” I said.

Harry paused and looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

“You could maybe help?” he said slowly, “You’ve got a different perspective than I do. There’s bound to be people out there that have problems with alcohol that you could help. Lou, what if we could get all kinds of celebrities involved? There have to be tons out there with different mental illnesses, no matter how minor or severe. Maybe I could even get Felix to help out! Louis, we could make this a huge thing! We could do this together, me and you.”

“Slow down,” I said carefully, “Listen baby, I get where you’re coming from. You want to help people. I want to help people too. I just don’t know if I can do that. I don’t like talking about the alcohol thing very much. I don’t know how comfortable I am with that.”

Harry frowned.

“It doesn’t have to be right now. It can be years from now, although I’d prefer to get more people on board before then. I’m not going to be mad if you don’t want to, love. I understand,” he said quietly, his excitement vanishing, “I’m sorry. I got a little caught up in the heat of the moment.”

I had clearly completely burst his bubble. I felt stupid, but I knew that I wasn’t in the wrong. I wasn’t going to put myself out there unless I was totally comfortable with it. I had always been more reserved about details of my private life, especially when I was struggling with something, and I wasn’t sure that I could start sharing things. I was sure that people knew about my issues with alcohol addiction, although I couldn’t remember if I had ever said anything about it in the media. I just didn’t know if I wanted them to know all of the details.

“I’ll think about it, okay? Just give me a little time. You know how I get. It’s just a little weird for me to think about spilling everything about my being an alcoholic to the media. I’m not quite as confident about my issues as you are,” I said, “But I’m not saying no. I’m just saying give me a little time to consider it.”

Harry smiled at me and walked over to kiss me.

“Thank you,” he murmured, “And it’s just an idea that I came up with not even a minute ago. It’ll take a lot of planning and stuff before it can become anything real.”

“And stuff,” I said, “Stuff takes a long time.”

“Hey,” he complained, shoving at my shoulder, “You’re being mean today.”

“You love me anyways,” I said, “You love it when I’m mean to you.”

“Yes, baby! Make fun of me! Punish me!” he moaned dramatically, flopping onto his back next to me and laughing at the unimpressed look I gave him.

“That’s not even what you sound like when you moan,” I snorted.

“I hope that’s not what I sound like,” he said, pinching my side and scrambling away when I went to hit him in the balls.

“No, baby, you sound like a bloody animal or something,” I said, “A gorilla, maybe.”

We got off together sometimes, though it wasn’t a very common thing. It was maybe once every other week or so. Most of the time on tour, we were too tired or when we weren’t, I just wasn’t completely comfortable. In the week before I’d left for the beach, I’d let it happen three times, just to show him that I wasn’t going anywhere and that I loved him. Of course, I’d left and completely disproved that, but that was beside the point.

I’d graduated from making us keep our clothes on to gradually taking more and more off. It was still just grinding, which I thought was pathetic, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch him or have him touch me. It was a slow process, but he understood. He tried to tell me that he thought it was hot regardless, but I couldn’t help but assume that he wanted more.

“I’m going to break up with you, I swear to God,” Harry said, climbing over me and using his entire body to pin me down.

I tried my hardest to get enough leverage to knee him, but he was too heavy.

“I’m going to suffocate,” I complained, shoving at him as he bit my neck, “I’ll die before you can break up with me.”

He kissed me then, probably just to shut me up. I let him, of course, and escaping only crossed my mind for a moment when he raised himself up on his knees.

“I could never break up with you,” he murmured, hardly pulling away so that he could talk, “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger and you know it.”

“Feeling’s mutual, pal,” I said, leaning up to kiss him a little more.

There was something to say about how easily we could forget about everything else expect for each other, because it felt like only a moment passed before somebody was knocking at our door and we were scrambling to pack our suitcases and eat a cooling breakfast before we missed our flight.

It wasn’t like we could really miss a flight, seeing as it was a private plane, but we still had a schedule to keep and expectations to adhere to.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have any time to ourselves after getting on the plane. We were allowed to fly together, but they suggested that we have as many people with us as possible, so not to arouse suspicions. Harry and I were in a weird limbo where we didn’t particularly care about keeping up false pretenses, but we both were fairly sure that we weren’t quite ready to come out yet, so we went along with it. I sat with Liam on the flight, mostly because every time Harry and I sat together, we got made fun of the entire way. I understood that we were ‘disgustingly cute’ together, but hearing the fake gag noises got old after the thousandth time. Plus, I was so wrapped up in my relationship that sometimes I forgot to hang out with everyone else. Harry and I were still pretty new together, only a few months old, and we were definitely still in the puppy love stage. I wasn’t sure if we would ever grow out of it.

Harry slept most of the way, so I didn’t talk to him until we got to our next hotel. We didn’t have a concert that night and it had just been a traveling day. The other boys and some other people were going out, but I stayed in. It just seemed pointless to me. It was weird to not be able to drink when everybody else around me was. I knew that if I said something, nobody would drink and we could all have fun sober, but I didn’t want to ruin their nights for them. Harry almost always chose to stay in with me unless he had already planned to meet somebody, usually someone from his infinite circle of friends. I highly doubted that I knew half of them.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asked as I shut the door to our room.

“You can go out,” I said, “Seriously, Harry.”

He shrugged.

“Honestly, Lou, I’d much rather spend time with you than anybody else. Plus it’s always funny to watch everybody hung-over in the morning while we’re completely fine,” he said, looking around for the remote for the television, “You think they have Netflix on here or do you think we’ll have to use a laptop?”

“Harry, you never go out anymore,” I said, sitting down on the bed, “I’m literally stopping you from having a social life.”

Harry looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

“I can go out to lunch or dinner just as easily as I can go out for drinks, Louis. I don’t have a social life because I’m on tour right now, not because you’re stopping me from doing anything,” he said, ignoring the remote and sitting down next to me, “Louis, I love you more than anything, but I am well aware that I need other friends too. Don’t worry about it, lovely. You’re really not doing anything wrong except for keeping yourself healthy.”

I sighed, “I know. I just feel like I’m trapping you sometimes. You love people and going out and I feel like it must be tiring just to sit in here with me night after night.”

“Louis, it’s everything but tiring. I’m in _love_ with you, you idiot. I’m not going to get tired of you. I love just being with you, regardless of what we’re doing. Listen, if you think I’m bored, why don’t we just do something else? You and I can go out somewhere. We can explore the city. We can go get fucking groceries. It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with you,” Harry said, sounding irritated.

It gave me an idea.

“Alright,” I said, “Let’s go then.”

He blinked at me.

“Where are we going?” he asked, but he stood up and looked around for his shoes nevertheless.

“We’re going to go explore the city. We’ve been here on every tour but we’ve never really seen any of it except for the hotels and the venues. Let’s go tell security and go,” I said, “We’ll just be discrete about it. If any fans see us, we just don’t take pictures and them meeting us becomes just another rumor that only a handful of people will believe.”

***

“Have I told you that I love you before?” Harry asked as we walked down the street of the city.

A guard trailed a few feet behind us, but we were so used to it that neither of us noticed much. It was a little cool out and it was getting later, so not many people were out. Every few blocks or so, we’d risk holding hands for a few minutes. It was exhilarating, being so out and obvious but knowing that nobody would ever know. We’d only stumbled across one fan, but she was in her twenties and mature enough to understand that when we said no pictures, we really meant it.

“Not enough,” I replied, squeezing his wrist before letting go.

“The next open place we see, I’ll go in there and tell every single person how in love I am with you,” Harry said and I laughed, picturing it.

As it turned out, the next place we came to that wasn’t closing in the next ten minutes was a small grocery store. We went in, waving to the lone employee sitting at his register. He waved back, not appearing to recognize us. There were a few people milling around, most of them there just to grab late-night snacks and go.

Harry and I weren’t there explicitly to buy groceries, so we wandered up and down every aisle, picking up whatever looked good to us. We were looking at the selection of ice cream when he kissed me. 

“We’re in public,” I said, but we both knew that I didn’t mind.

“Like you care,” he huffed, ducking down to kiss me again, “You make me so happy Louis, you don’t understand.”

“We’re in a grocery store arguing over ice cream,” I said, trying for indifferent but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“I know,” Harry said, “I could be totally lying right now just so we get my ice cream and not yours. Because we both know we’ll share one and I don’t like yours but you like mine, so it only makes sense.”

“I’m genuinely offended that you just kissed me to get me to give up my ice cream, Harry,” I said, “Why am I dating you again?”

Harry shrugged, but when he handed me the ice cream I didn’t object.

We sat in bed later, trying to decide what to eat. We’d truthfully bought whatever had looked good to us, so we had entirely too much food. We shared the ice cream first and he read a draft of a tweet talking about his new cuts and assuring fans that he was totally alright out loud to me.

“I’m proud of you,” I said when he had posted it.

“I’m proud of you too,” he said, tossing a chocolate in the air and trying to catch it in his mouth, “We’ve gone through a lot of shit, haven’t we?”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Looking at him, it was hard to remember that not too long before, he had been only skin and bones with cuts littering his body. He was so alive, his eyes bright and happy, that part of me wondered if I had made up everything.

It was weird to realize that there was a time where I hadn’t been in love with him. It was so natural and easy for us to be together- most of the time, anyways, when I wasn’t running off without telling him- that I would forget everything we had been through because of each other.

“Lou, what’s your opinion on trying to make a bubble bath in the jacuzzi? Have you seen it yet? It’s massive,” Harry said, tossing the empty ice cream carton towards the bin and missing.

“We’re using your soap. I’m almost out,” I told him, and he grinned.

It wasn’t quite as fun as we thought it would be when ten minutes later we had bubbles overflowing onto the floor and we were trying frantically to stop them.

(Except it really, really was.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: il0vem0lly


	39. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I couldn't bring myself to write this chapter in anything but third person. It just didn't fit right with first person.

“Do you want to make dinner or just order in?” Louis asks, sticking his head out of the bathroom.

He walks across the room to crawl back into bed with Harry. His cheeks are still flushed pink and his hair is a mess from Harry eating him out not even ten minutes before. It had been good, like it always is. He’d even let Harry fuck him afterwards, when Louis was sensitive enough for it to make him cry just a little.

“Order in,” Harry replies immediately.

Louis doesn’t look surprised at all. He very well knows that Harry turns into a lazy mess after sex.

Harry kisses him just so Louis doesn’t see the way his eyes get a little wet. It hits Harry suddenly sometimes, the way that Louis trusts him enough to have sex with him. It’s been over a year since the first time and Harry thinks that he’ll never get used to it. Having the privilege to know every part of Louis and knowing Louis knows every part of him- it’s amazing.

Louis smirks when they pull apart like Harry wasn’t quite fast enough to distract him.

“What do you want? I’ll call it in,” Louis says, sitting up, “Greasy or spicy?”

“Greasy. Pizza or Chinese, you pick,” Harry mumbles, rolling onto his side to press a kiss to Louis’ hip.

“Pizza. We had Chinese last week,” Louis says, “Suppose we should put some clothes on so the delivery man doesn’t get an eyeful like last time.”

Harry grins.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell ring!” he protests.

“Bullshit, you fucking exhibitionist,” Louis says, but he looks a little too fond for it to carry any bite, “At least put some pants on.”

“You love when I don’t put on any pants,” Harry says, grinning.

Louis rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother replying, getting out of bed to pull on a pair of discarded joggers and starts to throw socks at Harry until he gets up too.

“Think my phone’s downstairs,” Louis mutters, looking around the room, “I’ll be back.”

He starts to leave.

“Wait, Lou,” Harry says.

He means to tell Louis that he can just use his phone- he really does- but when Louis turns around his mouth goes dry.

It might be about the little smile on Louis’ face or the way the shadows in the hallway accentuate the lovebites on his throat or even the way his hair falls in front of his eyes and the way he flicks his head to fix it, but it’s- it’s _something_ that makes Harry do it.

He blurts it out before he even realizes what he’s saying. It tumbles out of his mouth, slipping past his lips before he can think about stopping it. Later, he thinks to himself that he probably wouldn’t have stopped even if he could have.

Louis freezes and his smile vanishes.

“What?” he asks, eyes wide.

“I said, will you marry me?” Harry repeats, just as stunned.

It’s not like he hasn’t been thinking about it for the entire time they’ve been dating, marrying Louis- he’s been entertaining the idea ever since they met. He’s just been thinking about it a lot more recently and there’s a set date in a few weeks when he and Gemma were planning on going ring shopping with Lottie. He hadn’t decided how he was going to do it, or even when, really, but he’d at least wanted a ring for the occasion. Even actually knowing that he was going to do it would have been nice. But he’s gone and blurted it out for no real reason and there’s no turning back.

“Harry?” Louis breathes, stepping back into the room.

Harry scrambles to think of something to say but he stares at Louis for a few moments before he can get his thoughts together enough to actually go down on one knee.

“Um- fuck, I didn’t actually mean to propose to you?” he says sheepishly, “But I might as well go through with it now that I’ve asked you, right?”

Louis just gapes at him. Harry grabs his hand.

“So, um, I love you a lot and there’s never been any question for me that you’re who I want to spend the rest of my life with and every life time after that. You and I have been through more together than any other couple I’ve ever met put together and I know we’ll be able to make it through anything that comes our way in the future too. _Fuck_ , I really haven’t thought this out at _all_ ; I don’t even have a ring or anything- you know how in love with you I’ve been since I first met you and how much you’ve always meant to me and I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that you’re in love with me too but I want us to be in love forever so, yeah. Will you marry me?” Harry says, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I meant to have a whole grand speech planned and for it to be romantic, but I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing right now.”

He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but it all pours out anyways.

Louis blinks down at him.

Harry wonders which one of them is more surprised. He looks around the room wildly for something, the first ring-shaped thing he can find. He knows he’s got to have one of his rings lying around somewhere that he can use as a substitute so he doesn’t look like quite so much of an idiot.

As it turns out, the first thing he can find is an unwrapped condom lying halfway underneath their bed and he grabs it on an impulse before he realizes what it actually is. They hardly even use condoms anymore so he doesn’t really know what it’s doing on the floor.

“Here- here, fuck,” he mumbles, trying to unwrap it, “Here.”

“Are you actually proposing to me with a condom?” Louis whispers, his eyes still wide enough that they look like they might actually pop out of their sockets, “Are you actually proposing to me?”

Harry looks down at the condom in his hands and feels himself turn bright red.

“Yes?” he says. Louis bursts into laughter, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh fuck, Harry, _fuck_ ,” he laughs, “Of fucking course I’ll marry you, you absolute idiot. I can’t believe you.”

He takes his hands away from his face and Harry starts because Louis is crying. He’s giggling uncontrollably, but he’s _crying_.

“Louis?” he asks.

Louis shakes his head and wipes the tears off of his face.

“I love you so much, you prick. I can’t fucking believe you just proposed to me with a condom- I love you so much,” he says.

He holds his hand out.

“Put it on me, then,” he says, but his voice is a lot gentler, like it’s a real ring that’s being put on him.

“Should I tie it or just, like, slip it on?” Harry asks.

He’s never felt more stupid in his life, but Louis grins through his tears.

“Maybe we could cut it off and use the ring part at the end?” he sniffs, wiping at his face again, “Come up here and kiss me.”

It’s probably the sweetest kiss Harry’s ever had. It’s close-mouthed and gentle and Louis is still pliant and soft from earlier. It’s the kiss of true love, Harry thinks, and then realizes that he’s crying a bit too. He just proposed out of the blue and with a condom and it’s the least romantic thing that he’s ever done, but it hits him that for all intents and purposes that they’re engaged now. The thought spins around in his mind, making him dizzy with love. He gets to keep Louis forever, and he’s always known that, but now it’s the next step to being lawfully official.

Louis starts to giggle again against his mouth and Harry pulls away, confused.

“I get to tell the whole world you proposed to me with a _condom_ , Harry,” Louis snickers, “Out of all your rings that you own and you used a condom. I get to tell our kids this story.”

Harry smiles. Louis is going to make fun of him like this for the rest of their lives and he’s so excited about it.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too, _fiancé_ ,” Louis replies, his hands twisting into Harry’s hair.

“Fiancé,” Harry says slowly, rolling it around his tongue, “You’re my fiancé now.”

“Yeah,” Louis says gently, “We’re going to get married, baby.”

His eyes are so soft and gentle and still teary, like he’s going to cry again.

The word ‘fiancé’ bounces around in Harry’s brain and makes its way through his veins, making him feel hot all over. He becomes acutely aware that he’s completely naked and that Louis only has a pair of joggers on. Commitment really shouldn’t be such a turn on for him, but it is and he knows that Louis loves it.

“Louis,” he says urgently, “Louis, d’you think you could go again?”

He’s grabbing at Louis’ arse and hauling him closer before Louis can even reply.

“Fuck, you love this don’t you,” Louis murmurs, eyes dark, “You’re my fiancé now and you love that you get to keep me for the rest of your life. You love that you know that you’re the only one who’ll ever get to fuck me and I’m the only one who’ll ever get to fuck you, yeah?”

It’s a total 180, going from romance to what’s probably going to be absolutely filthy sex, but it’s definitely not the first time that’s happened.

Harry drags him over to the bed and climbs on top of him before he can finish speaking.

(And later they’ll post a picture of the condom wrapped around Louis’ finger with the caption ‘ _It was a surprise proposal for both of us’_ and they’ll break most of the social media cites for the second time, the first being when they came out two years before. And Harry will propose again a few weeks later with a real ring and a better speech and they’ll get married in the fall. Louis will drink a glass of champagne at the reception because he can and Felix will bring his new girlfriend that he’s absolutely smitten with and it’ll make Harry cry with happiness. They’ll have the rest of their lives together and they’ll love each other more than anything and years down the road, the last of Harry’s scars will fade without them even realizing. But right now, Louis is spreading his legs for him and Harry can’t be bothered to think about the future when he’s got all that he wants right now.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it! Nearly three years of work come to an end.   
> Honestly, I'm happy for this to be over. It's ridiculously long and admittedly, I am rather sick of it.   
> But, it's still my baby that I've nurtured and loved for three years and I'll miss it. Maybe I'll bring the Louis and Harry from this verse back for a one shot or something. I was actually going to add a bonus chapter of their first time 'going all the way' but then gave up because I wanted to be done right now immediately.   
> Please keep checking back on here because I have a lot of things still coming!  
> I'm in two fic exchanges right now and I've been planning for my next multi-chaptered fic for literally two years. I'm so excited for it and I have a few oneshot ideas floating around as well.  
> Also, I'm planning on revamping this entire fic and reuploading it. However, if you're attached to this version, I will be keeping it on my Wattpad account- standintherain16.  
> Thank you all so, so, so much for sticking with me and my horrible updating schedule!!!!  
> Love you!!!!!!!!!  
> tumblr: il0vem0lly


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